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Snowballing the Chickens, 


Page n 


Tom Bard 


AND 


OTHER NORTONVILLE BOYS 


BY THE 

Rev. J. A". DAVIS 

Author of "The Chinese Slave-Girl/' Etc. 




JUN 29 1883,, 



PHILADELPHIA 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION 
1334 CHESTNUT STREET 



COPYRIGHT, 1882, BY 

THE TRUSTEES OF THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 


Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Should his readers ask whether this is a 
“ true story,” the author would say in reply 
that the boys, girls, men, women and places 
told of are real, though bearing other names, 
and that most of the incidents here related 
occurred within a hundred miles of New 
York City. As the most of the persons 
introduced Into this story are yet living, 
he has tried not to describe them or their 
homes too plainly. His purpose has been, 
not to present persons, but characters and 
acts. He has had more than a single object 
in view in presenting this narrative of real 
life. Not forgetting his own longings and 
struggles, when a boy, to be a Christian, he 
has tried to help other boys to become fol- 
lowers of Christ. He has sought, too, to 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


show, as he has learned by observation, 
that boys can live Christian lives and yet 
be real boys. Another aim has been to 
hint that a simple act of kindness and 
Christian charity may bring results far be- 
yond our highest expectations. 

The chief object, however, of the author 
has been to lead boys to become better 
acquainted with the Saviour. If that be 
accomplished, then the story does its work. 
There are much easier ways of presenting 
the claims of the Saviour on us than through 
the medium of frolicsome boys, but boys 
may not consider him through those me- 
dia; perhaps they will in this. 

Boys, if you knew Jesus well, you would 
love him ; you would trust him ; you would 
serve him : you could not help it. He is 
just the Friend, Saviour and Leader that 
boys need. Learn about him, and try for 
yourselves. 


> 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGB 

Snowballing Poultry 9 

CHAPTER II. 

A Chestnut-Burr 32 

CHAPTER III. 

The Chestnuts 53 

CHAPTER, IV. 

Mrs. Ford’s Better Self 78 

CHAPTER V. 

Trying to be Good ’ 104 

CHAPTER VI. 

The War 125 

5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 

Tom Dreams of the Judgment i44 

CHAPTER VIII. 

How Tom Found the Saviour i68 

CHAPTER IX. 

Tom’s Pastor 187 

CHAPTER X. 

Praying for Bill Snyder 227 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Boys’ Prayer-Meeting 249 

CHAPTER XII. 

Praying for Rabbits 279 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The New Minister 295 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Tom Dreams of Trying to Enter Heaven with Riches. 318 


CONTENTS, 


7 


CHAPTER XV. 

PAGE 

Tom's Trial 331 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Tom’s Dream about the Heathen 356 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Fighting for his Employer 373 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Last Look at the Boys 401 



Tom Bard. 


CHAPTER I. 

SNOWBALLING POULTRY. 

EE there, boys ! The window of 



wZy Mrs. Ford’s hen-house is open. 
Who can throw a snowball through ? 
Here goes ! — It went through ! None of 
you can beat that.” 

So said Tom Bard, one of the noisiest 
and most mischievous, yet best-natured, 
of all the Nortonville boys, as the children 
were going home from school at night. A 
loose snow had fallen, and had thawed just 
enough to make it pack nicely for balls. 

“ Don’t fire in there, Tom,” said Harry 
Meyer, Tom’s best friend ; “ you’ll hit 
Mrs. Ford’s chickens and bring her out 
after us.” 

“ Who cares for Mrs. Ford or her chick- 


9 


lO 


TOM BARD. 


ens either?” replied Tom. “This soft snow 
won’t hurt them, any way ; it will just ’liven 
them up. It’s too early for chickens to go 
to roost: the sun is not down yet. — Come, 
boys ; don’t you want a shot?” 

The boys had been looking for a mark 
and were ready with snowballs, so they 
needed no urging. Only one or two were 
as good shots as Tom, yet each one tried to 
send his ball through the open window ; but 
not one was aimed straight enough. 

“ There ! now you’ve all had your shot,” 
said Harry Meyer. “ Don’t throw any 
more. Let the chickens be. It’s fun for 
you, but it won’t be for the chickens if you 
hit them. Let’s go on. We are alv/ays 
teasing Mrs. Ford; don’t let us do any 
of it to-night.” 

“ That’s just where the fun comes in, 
Harry,” replied Tom ; “ I want to wake 
her up. She seems to forget us to-night. 
Here goes and he threw another ball 
through the window. 

Others imitated his example, and two of 
the balls followed his. To hear the cackling 
of the frightened poultry, to see them flying 


SNOWBALLING POULTRY, 


II 


from the window, to try to hit them while 
flying, — this was just the fun Tom and 
others of the boys wished. But there was 
another reason why they were ready to 
throw snowballs into the hen-house : Mrs. 
Ford was no friend of the children. She 
watched them as they went by her house 
to and from school, she scolded them when- 
ever a chance offered, and she was always 
ready to tell their parents or the teacher of 
their mischief. 

In vain did Harry Meyer and the girls 
urge the boys to stop. They were excited, 
and the snowballs went thick and fast against 
the side of the building, one now and then 
passing through the open window. 

“ Look there shouted Tom ; ** the old 
rooster stands in the window ; he is com- 
ing out. Who can pepper him?’' 

A ball hit the old fellow, and he flew up 
to the house. His furious cackling near the 
door brought out Mrs. Ford. Her shrill voice 
stopped the snowballing. Hardly knowing 
what they did, the children started to run ; 
nor did they stop until out of the sound 
of Mrs. Ford’s voice. 


12 


TOM BARD. 


“Why will you boys always tease Mrs. 
Ford so?” asked Annie Brown when the 
children stopped to rest. 

“She’s always bothering us,” said Fred 
De Hart, “and we just pay her back. If 
she did not watch us so closely when we go 
past her house, I wouldn’t trouble her.” 

“ Besides,” added Bennie Moore, “ she 
tells the teacher everything we do; and 
she lets our fathers and mothers know it 
too. She don’t forget anything, I tell you. 
I don’t forget some things, either; for fa- 
ther gave me a whipping some time ago 
when she told about me. Perhaps I de- 
served it, yet that don’t make me like Mrs. 
Ford any. better.” . 

“ Perhaps if you did not tease her she 
would not tell about you,” suggested Lucy 
Abbot. “ She is only trying to get even 
with you.” 

“ ‘ Get even ’ !” exclaimed Tom Bard. 
“She is so far ahead now that we can’t 
catch up to her if we try ever so hard. 
I’m afraid that she will keep on getting 
ahead so fast that she will be out of our 
sight some day.” 


SNOWBALLING POULTRY. 


n 


“Well, Tom,’' spoke Harry Meyer, in a 
low tone, “ it is hardly fair to pay back on 
the chickens.” 

“ That’s so,” replied Tom ; “ I didn’t mean 
to make the chickens suffer for what she 
does. I didn’t mean to hurt them ; I only 
thought of the fun. I am sorry. But the 
soft snow don’t hurt much.” 

“Won’t you boys catch it to-morrow, 
though !” chuckled Bill Snyder. “ The 
teacher ’ll know all about it ; then look 
out for fun. Glad I didn’t hit any.” 

“ Didn’t hit any because you couldn’t 
throw straight enough,” muttered Fred De 
Hart. 

“What have you got to say about it?” 
grumbled Bill, who was the largest boy in 
the company. “I could have thrown into 
the window every time, only I didn’t want 
to.” 

“Some folks don’t want to very often, I 
notice,” said Tom, in a low tone ; and then 
he added, in a louder voice, “If we must 
catch a flogging for it, I won’t lie out of it, 
any way. I suppose we ought not to have 
fired the snowballs ; and I don’t believe you 


TOM BARD. 


14 

boys would have done it had I not begun. 
Pshaw ! I wish Mrs. Ford would let us 
alone. We would not be half so bad if 
she did not watch and tell tales about us 
and provoke us.” 

Tom Bard was rather glad, the next 
morning, to be sent on an errand before 
school-time, and thus he could have an 
excuse for not being present at the open- 
ing of the school. He did not doubt that 
Mrs. Ford would tell the teacher, and he 
felt just as sure that the teacher would 
punish every boy who had thrown a snow- 
ball at the hen-house. Tom was not a 
coward, yet he did not like whippings any 
better than other boys ; and he did not 
hurry off when the errand was done. 
Yet the more he thought about it, the 
more he felt that he should be at the 
school to take his share of the punish- 
ment, especially as he had led the others 
into the mischief. At length he started for 
school, and at the thought of the punish- 
ment brought upon the others he felt the 
more that he must be ready to take his 
share. 


SNO WBALLING PO UL TRY. 1 5 

The school was nearly a mile from the 
village of Nortonville, in which Tom lived. 
The school-house had been built before the 
railroad made Nortonville a village, and in 
the time of which we write the Nortonville 
children were obliged to walk this distance 
to school. 

It took Tom but a few minutes to go after 
he fully decided that he must bear the con- 
sequences of his mischief. When he reached 
the school the opening exercises were over, 
and Mr. Wyckoff, the teacher, was talking, 
and did not notice Tom. Without asking, 
Tom knew that the teacher was speaking 
of the mischief of the night before. Ben- 
nie Moore, Fred De Hart, Will Harris, 
Charlie Brown and James Hull had just 
confessed that they had thrown snowballs 
into Mrs. Ford’s hen-house, but Bill Snyder 
stoutly denied that he had had anything to 
do with it. 

“ Benjamin, Frederick, William, Charles 
and James, come here,” said Mr. Wyckoff. 

There was a dreadful silence in the school 
as the five boys walked slowly up to the 
teacher’s desk. Mr. Wyckoff had taught 


i6 


TOM BARD. 


for only a short time, and the scholars 
hardly knew what kind of a teacher he 
was. He did not whip so often as former 
teachers, nor did he often scold. Most of 
the children had begun to look on him as 
a friend. But they had been told at home 
again and again that some day they would 
see that the new teacher knew how to whip 
as well as any other. The children thought 
that they would see now ; and yet there was 
something in Mr. Wyckoff’s eye that they 
could not understand. 

When the boys were ranged in front of 
him, and before he spoke, the silence in the 
school seemed to be even deeper than be- 
fore. The pupils felt certain that something 
awful was about to happen. It appeared as 
if a long-threatened thunderstorm was ready 
to burst over their heads. Some of the small- 
er girls began to cry ; others hid their faces ; 
while most of the school looked anxiously 
first at the teacher, then at the five culprits 
standing before him. Bill Snyder, glad, and 
yet hardly over the fright at his own narrow 
escape, was beginning to feel pleased at the 
prospect of a thorough flogging for five boys 


SNO WBALLING POUL TRY. 1 7 

at once, when he saw the anxious face of 
Tom Bard fixed on the teacher. Bill 
caught Tom’s eye and winked at him, as 
much as to say, “We are out of this, but 
they will catch it.” Bill’s look decided 
Tom. 

“ Boys,” said Mr. Wyckoff, in a stern 
voice, “ this is not the first time I have 
heard of your annoying Mrs. Ford. If I 
have said little about it, it has not been 
unnoticed. I fear that there has been a 
constant practice on tfee part of some to 
give her trouble, and it is my purpose to 
stop that now.” 

Each word of the teacher was spoken 
slowly, but with such quiet determination 
that every scholar felt that Mr. Wyckoff 
meant just what he said and was able to 
keep his word. A whipping the boys 
could endure ; but that steady look, that 
firm yet quiet manner, those calmly-spoken 
words seeming to have so much meaning,— 
to such treatment they were not accustomed. 
The boldest trembled. Every scholar felt 
that there was something awful behind. 

Terrible as seemed the punishment about 
2 


1 8 TOM BARD. 

to fall Upon the five boys, Tom felt that he 
must share it. He had been one of the 
worst to annoy Mrs. Ford before he had 
led the boys into this last trouble, and he 
could not bear the thought of allowing 
them to suffer while he was spared. 
Without waiting for the teacher to say 
more, and fearing that the punishment 
would be given before he had a chance 
to speak, Tom, pale and trembling, arose 
and with a weak voice asked, 

“ Mr. Wyckoff, may I speak ?’" 

“Wait, Thomas,” said the teacher, “until 
I have attended to this matter.” 

“ Please, sir, may I speak before ? It is 
something about that,” continued Tom. 

“Well, what have you to say about it?” 
asked Mr. Wyckoff. 

“ Mr. Wyckoff, they wouldn’t have done 
it if I hadn’t begun,” said Tom, in a fright- 
ened voice. 

“ You ! Did you throw any snowballs?” 
asked the teacher, almost angrily. “ Why 
(fid you (ieny it ? Come here !” 

“ I did not deny it,” replied Tom, in a 
bolder voice. “You did not ask me.” 


SJVO WEAL LING PO UL TR Y. 1 9 

“ What ! did not I ask you ? I thought I 
asked every boy who comes from Norton- 
ville,” said Mr. Wyckoff, in surprise. 

'‘Tom Bard came in after you asked/' 
spoke Harry Meyer. 

Now that he had dared to speak at such 
a time, Harry felt that he must plead for 
his friend Tom, whom he saw had drawn 
on himself the worst punishment of all. Yet 
Harry felt that there was something in Mr. 
Wyckoff's manner that would allow any one 
to say a favorable word for the guilty boys. 

“ Please, Mr. Wyckoff/' continued he, “ I 
don’t think that any of the boys meant to 
hurt Mrs. Ford’s chickens. It was good 
snowballing, and we had been looking for 
a mark ; then we saw the open window of 
Mrs. Ford’s hen-house. But no one wanted 
to hurt the fowls.” 

“ Did you throw snowballs at the poultry, 
Harry?” asked Mr. Wyckoff. 

“ Harry didn’t throw anything,” broke in 
Fred De Hart. “He don’t get into mis- 
chief nowadays as we boys do.” 

“ No, sir ; I did not throw any snowballs 
then,” replied Harry, “but I might have 


20 


rOM BARD. 


done so had you not told me the other 
day not to trouble Mrs. Ford. The rest 
didn’t take time to think ; they only thought 
of the fun.” 

The teacher boarded with Harry’s pa- 
rents, so Harry felt the less afraid of 
him. 

“ Do you boys know it is very poor 
fun that causes pain to others ?” asked 
the teacher. 

“Yes, sir, we know,” replied Tom; “but 
when a boy has a snowball in his hand, he 
don’t think of anything much but hitting a 
mark. That was the way with us.” 

^ “That often is the excuse of the mur- 
derer — he does not think,” said Mr. Wyck- 
off. “You boys should think, and think 
of the consequences too, before you act. 
More than half the trouble in the world 
comes because people don’t think. But 
now, since so much has been said, I am 
ready to hear anything else about this 
matter. I would like to get at the foun- 
dation of the trouble between you and 
Mrs. Ford.” 

The teacher waited, but no one spoke. 


SNOWBALLING POULTRY. 


21 


After a few moments of silence he turned 
to Tom and asked, 

“Was there any other reason than want- 
ing the fun of snowballing that led you to 
throw into Mrs. Ford’s poultry-house?” 

Tom hung his head, but made no reply. 

The teacher continued : 

“ Thomas, would you have thrown snow- 
balls into that hen-house if it had not been 
Mrs. Ford’s?” 

Tom would rather have been whipped 
than answer this question. He could not 
say “No,” and did not dare say “Yes;” for 
he knew the teacher would then talk to him 
about the meanness of paying back to Mrs. 
Ford’s poultry the wrong she had done him 
and the others. Thinking to escape the an- 
swer, Tom said, 

“ Mr. Wyckoff, it don’t seem right that 
the other boys should suffer for what I 
made them do. If you’ll let them go, I am 
willing to take the whipping. I deserve it, 
any way.” 

The children looked at one another with 
wonder at Tom’s speech. Nearly every one 
liked him, though he was constantly getting 


22 


TOM BARD. 


Others as well as himself into trouble, but 
he never refused to take his full share of 
the punishment; though never before had 
Tom offered to take all. 

“ It is very generous, Thomas, in you to 
be willing to suffer for the others,” replied 
Mr. Wyckoff ; “yet they should have known 
better than to do wrong because you did. 
I do not inte'nd to whip any of you boys : 
a whipping would be letting you off too 
easily, and would not settle the trouble. 
Besides, I doubt whether you six are the 
only guilty ones : it will hardly do to pun- 
ish you and let the others go free.” 

“ ni tell you, Mr. Wyckoff,” said Bill Sny- 
der, who saw that he was likely to lose his 
fun of seeing some 6f the boys “get their 
jackets dusted.” “Jim — ” 

“ Silence, William Snyder !” spoke the 
teacher, sharply. “ I did not ask you. If 
there is a boy in this school mean enough 
to lie in order to escape punishment, I do 
not care to know him. Besides, I do not 
wish any of you to tell tales of the others.” 

“Mr. Wyckoff,” said Jim Logan, “you 
asked me if I threw snowballs into the 


SNOWBALLING POULTRY. 


23 


window. I didn’t ; I threw them against 
the hen-house, but none went inside.” 

“ So did I,” said Peter Laydon. 

“ I too,” echoed Richard Wallon. 

“ Mr. Wyckoff,” said Tom, “I don’t think 
that many went into the hen-house. We 
didn’t throw many, any way.” 

“ Why did you stop so soon ?” inquired 
the teacher. 

“ Because Mrs. Ford came out and scared 
us away,” replied Tom. 

“Thomas, you have not answered my 
question,” said the teacher. “ I mean to 
settle this matter between you boys and 
Mrs. Ford, and you may as well help as 
hinder me. Let me ask again : Would you 
boys have thrown snowballs into that hen^ 
house if it had not been Mrs. Ford’s ?” 

“ No, sir,” answered Tom, looking up. 
“ I wouldn’t, any way. But I didn’t mean 
to hurt her chickens.” 

“That there is an unpleasant feeling be- 
tween many of you and Mrs. Ford I learn- 
ed some time ago,” said Mr. Wyckoff, “but 
I never knew until last night that any of 
my school would take what to me seems a 


24 


TOM BARD, 


mean and cowardly way of being revenged 
for real or fancied wrongs. Let me ask of 
you all, was it fair to snowball her poultry 
when she did not know it? Was it man- 
ly, was it honorable, to harm the fowls for 
anything their owner had done you ? Was 
it not cowardly to hit those that could not 
strike back, that could not even defend 
themselves? Is it not mean revenge to at- 
tack the innocent and the helpless for what 
the bad and the strong have done to you ?” 

Mr. Wyckoff,” said Tom, feeling the re- 
buke most keenly, “it was cowardly, but 
we did not mean it to be so. Besides, Mrs. 
Ford gives us reason to trouble her. She 
is almost always watching us and scolding 
or telling others about us. She scolds us 
so often for nothing that sometimes we 
think we will give her reason to find 
fault.” 

“So, because Mrs. Ford annoys you, you 
take revenge on her poultry? You punish 
them for what she does ?” 

Tom hung his head and was silent. The 
school looked on anxiously to see what would 
come Aext ; while Bill Snyder winked to one 


SNOWBALLING POULTRY. 25 

of the boys, as much as to say, “Tom is catch- 
ing it now.” 

Mr. Wyckoff continued: 

“ I need hardly tell you that I am sorry 
for your conduct toward Mrs. Ford, but I 
do not believe that you saw how unfair it 
really was. You would regard it as an 
insult to be told that you have acted as 
savages. When they have a grudge 
against a person, instead of punishing 
him they often destroy his property, or 
even steal or kill his wife and children. 
We all respect the person who takes the 
side of the weak and the helpless against 
the strong, and I need not tell you what 
we think of those who take the opposite 
course — take revenge on the weak and 
the helpless for wrongs that the powerful 
have done. I do not say that you boys 
have acted like savages, or have even 
been mean and cowardly ; yet let me say 
that you have not been manly, and the 
course you have taken with Mrs. Ford 
is one that leads to mean, cowardly acts. 
There is too much manliness among you 
for you to take such a course*” ^ 


26 


TOM BARD. 


While Mr. Wyckofif was speaking others 
besides Tom felt that they had not treated 
Mrs. Ford fairly ; but Tom resolved that he 
would never again snowball or stone a weak 
and innocent creature. 

After he had given the school a few 
moments to think of his words the teach- 
er continued: 

“ I do not know who is to blame for the 
unpleasant feeling between you and Mrs. 
Ford, nor does it matter. She may have 
wronged you ; no doubt she has not treat- 
ed you as you wish to be treated.- It is not 
pleasant to her, nor to you either, to feel 
as you do to each other ; yet this trouble 
will continue until one side or the other 
gives up and takes a better course. Now, 
are you willing to try another way of get- 
ting along with Mrs. Ford ?” 

“What way can we take?” asked Harry 
Meyers. 

“The way of peace and kindness,” re- 
plied Mr. Wyckofif. “ If you treat her 
kindly and go peaceably by her home, 
she will not trouble you.” 

“ She would not be happy then,” said 


SJVO WBALLING PO UL TR K 2 / 

Mary Vorhees, “Auntie says that she 
believes that Mrs. Ford is happy only 
when she is in trouble.” 

This remark from Mary made the teach- 
er smile, but, putting on a sober face, he 
said, 

“ Mrs. Ford may not be so kind or so 
pleasant a woman as some are, but she 
has had a great deal of sorrow. Trouble 
has soured her disposition, and she is made 
worse by unkindness. No doubt she would 
treat others well if they would only be kind 
to her. She may be like a chestnut-burr, 
full of sharpness and thorns outside, but 
good nuts within. Now, I wish you to be 
kind to her, and then see if she will not 
return your good-will. Who will help me 
to try an experiment? Let us endeavor by 
treating her kindly, to show that Mrs. 
Ford is a good, kind woman — one who 
can not only understand a kindness, but 
who can and will do more favors to oth- 
ers than they do to her. Who is ready to 
help me try this experiment? Hands up, 
all who will help.” 

Nearly every hand went up. Tom Bard’s 


28 


TOM BARD. 


was the last to rise. He would not have 
agreed if the others had not ; for Tom could 
not so soon get over the scoldings he had 
received, and the whipping he once got be- 
cause Mrs. Ford told his father that he had 
fought with Bill Snyder coming home from 
school. Bill’s hand did not go up ; he said 
he did not want the fun to stop. Yet he 
was not the one to annoy Mrs. Ford. She 
could pay back ; he did not often trouble 
such people. 

“ How can we show Mrs. Ford kind- 
ness ?” asked one of the girls. ‘ 

“ By speaking politely to her when you 
pass,” answered the teacher. “A pleasant 
word does a great deal. Then, too, be 
ready to do her a favor. Help her in any 
way that you can, but do not make any 
show or say anything about it, as though 
you were making an effort or were doing 
some great thing. Let all your kind acts 
come naturally ; at least, domot let her know 
what it costs you to perform them. But we 
will now go to our work. — I want you six 
boys who have been perhaps foremost in 
annoying Mrs. Ford to be foremost in help- 


SNO WBALLING PO UL TR Y. 29 

ing me in this experiment. I can trust you, 
can I not?’' 

The strong “Yes, sir,” of the other five 
boys contrasted with the low-spoken “I’ll 
try ” of Tom, who did so much want to pay 
back Mrs. Ford just once for telling of the 
snowballing. 

The boys hardly knew whether Mr. Wyck- 
off’s experiment was to be a punishment 
or not as they took their seats and began 
studying, but they did know, if the talk was 
to be taken with the experiment as a pun- 
ishment, that it was a different form, and 
much worse to suffer than a whipping. 

“ I never felt so mean in all my life,” said 
Tom to the others at noon, “ as when the 
teacher talked about hitting the chickens 
because I didn’t like Mrs. Ford. It was 
mean, any way; but I never would have 
thought of it had not Mr. Wyckoff told 
us.” 

“ I’d rather be thrashed any time,” spoke 
Fred De Hart, “than have the teacher talk 
to me in that way.” 

“ Yes ; and what made it so much worse,” 
added Will Harris, “ was that he seemed to 


30 


TOM BARD. 


feel sorry that we had done it, and he did 
not want to scold us for it. I like fun, and 
it’s fun to tease Mrs. Ford; but I tell you, 
boys, Fm going to get my fun in some 
other way.” 

Do you think Mrs. Ford will stop if we 
do ?” asked Bennie Moore. “ It will be 
harder for her than for us, I think. But I 
do like to hear her scold. My! can’t she 
do it, though I It will seem strange to go 
by her house and not bother her any more. 
Don’t believe I can hold out.” 

“Well, I said I’d try, and I mean to,” said 
Tom. “ That was a hard promise to make. 
It would be easy enough to keep it if we 
were only even with her. Oh, well, some 
one’s got to give up, and we can, I sup- 
pose. But how in the world are we to do 
her any favors ? She’ll scold us for trying, 
and box our ears, like enough, if we try to 
help her.” 

“ I’ll tell you, Tom,” said Harry, “ what 
we can do. Her cow runs off almost every 
day, and she must go after it. Suppose 
you and I drive it home to her every 
night ?” 


SNO WBA L L ING PO UL TRY. 3 1 . 

“ mW\ right,” replied Tom ; “ and then, if 
she comes after us, we can run away. She’ll 
think we’ve been up to mischief sure then.” 

“You’ll have a chance to try,” said Ben- 
nie Moore, “ to-night, I guess, for I have 
seen that cow every noon this week, when 
turned out for water, go to Mr. Bangs’s. 
Just as like as not Mrs. Ford will say that 
you are trying to steal her cow.” 

“ She may say what she likes ; I am 
going to do what Mr. Wyckoff asked,” 
replied Harry. 


CHAPTER II. 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 

B ill SNYDER went home that after- 
noon at recess. On the way he stop- 
ped to see how Mrs. Ford would like the 
teacher’s experiment. 

Bill was a trouble-maker — not because he 
wished to see people suffer, but, as he said, 
he “liked to see things going on.” It suit- 
ed him to hear a quarrel or to see a fight 
if he might do so from a safe distance ; but 
as soon as Bill was likely to be drawn into 
the difficulty, then he wanted peace. 

Mrs. Ford was gathering wood on the 
woodpile as Bill came up to her gate. See- 
ing him, she stopped her work and asked, 
“Well, did you boys get a thrashing to- 
day? You deserved it, if any youngsters 
ever did, for snowballing my fowls last night. 
I told the teacher. I won’t spare you young 
scamps. You don’t know how to behave ; 

32 


A CHESTNUT BURR. 


33 


and the girls are as bad as the boys. I 
wish I had the training of you ; you’d 
catch it, I tell you. You’d be brought up 
in a different way from what you are going 
now, let me tell you. Nortonville has the 
worst lot of children in the world, I believe. 
Did the teacher flog you ?” 

Bill did not care to hear anything more 
about the Nortonville children, as Mrs. 
Ford had given her opinion about them 
often enough for even Bill to know what 
she thought. 

“ No, he didn’t whip me, nor any one 
else, either,” replied Bill. 

“ Didn’t ! Why not. I’d like to know ? 
I told him all about it, and he said that 
he would attend to it. You say none of 
you got whipped? Deserved to be skinned 
alive, every one of you, girls and all. Wish 
I was the teacher ; you’d know it, let me tell 
you. You would not snowball any more 
fowls. You frightened mine almost to 
death last night. I don’t know but some 
of them will die.” 

“Well, the teacher didn’t whip a single 
one of ’em,” said Bill, doggedly. “ But 

3 


34 


TOM BARD. 


say, Mrs. Ford, I didn’t snowball your 
chickens. It was the other boys who hit 
’em and throwed snow in the hen-house.” 

“You were there, though; I saw you,” 
replied Mrs. Ford ; “ and it’s just like you 
to set the rest on and then say you didn’t 
do anything. But I’d like to know why the 
teacher did not whip you all. What have 
we got a teacher for, if he don’t ’tend to 
his business ? If he is going to let things 
go in this way, I will see the trustees about 
it. If he won’t do his duty, they must get 
somebody who will.” 

While she stopped to take breath Bill 
added, 

“ The teacher gave Tom Bard and some 
of the other fellows an awful talking to. 
They won’t soon forget it, either.” 

“‘Talking to’!” said Mrs. Ford, con- 
temptuously. “What good will that do? 
They’ll snowball again the first chance 
they get. I’m glad, though, that the snow 
is so near gone and spring coming. Whip- 
ping is what they need, and of the soundest 
kind. Boys need something to make them 
remember. I can’t see what makes children 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


35 


SO bad now. It was not so when I went to 
school. They knew they’d catch it if they 
were not good. Some of them did catch 
it too, now I tell you. Some boys couldn’t 
wear a coat for a week after. That is the 
way to bring up boys. But what is the use 
of talking about it? Nobody listens to me. 
I’ve the most contrary neighbors anybody 
ever had. I did think this teacher would 
be different. He always speaks to me 
and is so kind and polite that I thought 
he would be willing to try to stop the 
children bothering me. Oh, well, I can’t 
expect to find friends in this world, now 
that my own have all gone. But I do 
miss friends,” she added, in a low tone. 

“Say, Mrs. Ford,” said Bill, touched by 
her sadness and wishing to show that he 
felt kindly to her, though, as usual with 
him, he took the worst way of showing it, 
“ what do you think the teacher called you ?” 

“ Called me ? What did he call me any- 
thing for? I don’t know. What did he 
call me? Let me hear.” 

“Well, he said that you are a chestnut- 
burr full of sharpness and prickles.” 


3 ^ 


TOM BARD. 


“Me a chestnut-burr! Called me a 
chestnut-burr !” shouted Mrs. Ford as she 
started from the woodpile toward Bill. 
“The teacher called me a chestnut-burr, 
did he ?” Then she stood still, to Bill 
Snyder’s satisfaction. He did not care to 
see Mrs. Ford come any nearer. “A chest- 
nut-burr, am I?” she. continued. “Well, 
Mr. Teacher, we will see. If I am, you 
will find it out, let me tell you. So that’s 
the reason he did not whip you for snow- 
balling my fowls — because I am a chestnut- 
burr full of prickles? Take care, young 
man ; chestnut-burrs can hurt. What else 
did he say ?” 

“ Oh, he said a good deal more, but noth- 
ing else bad about you,” replied Bill, who 
began to see that it would have been wiser 
to have said nothing to Mrs. Ford about 
chestnut-burrs. 

If Mrs. Ford talked to the teacher about 
chestnut-burrs. Bill saw that it would come 
out that he had told her ; and he knew Mr. 
Wyckoff well enough to know that if he 
whipped for anything it would be for tell- 
ing tales. Like some other boys. Bill seemed 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


37 


to have most of his heart spread around 
under his skin just where a whip could 
reach it ; so he feared a whipping more 
than any punishment that could be given. 
He would do anything to escape pain, 
though he cared little for the shame of a 
flogging or of any other discipline. 

Yet Bill was not without better feelings. 
He was only living his father and mother 
over again. They had money, and seemed 
to think there was little else in this world 
worth caring for. They were not misers ; 
they lived well, and they gave Bill plenty 
of money. That is about all they did 
give, except his clothes and his food. 
Bill’s father was a small politician — a 
small one every way, except that he 
weighed over two hundred pounds. 

“ It would have been better if he had 
said nothing about me,” continued Mrs. 
Ford. “A nice teacher, to call people 
such names, and behind their backs too ! 
If he don’t stop it and flog you boys for 
troubling me. I’ll know the reason why. 
Maybe he thinks it isn’t right to whip 
boys. I wonder how much better it is 


38 


rOM BARD. 


to talk about people and call them names 
behind their backs ?” 

“ I guess the teacher don’t believe much 
in whipping,” said Bill. “I am not sorry, 
only it spoils lots of fun.” 

“You like to see boys vrhipped, do you?” 
asked Mrs. Ford. “You ought to catch it 
yourself. Anybody who likes to see others 
suffer ought to suffer, I say.” 

“It’s no fun to catch a flogging, though 
it is to see others get it. But I must go 
home, or school will be out and the boys 
will see me talking here. Say, Mrs. Ford, 
you won’t tell the teacher that I said any- 
thing about his calling you a chestnut-burr, 
will you ?” 

“ Can’t promise. I mean to talk to him 
about it, that’s certain. I won’t let any 
one call me such names if I can help 
it.” 

“But you won’t say anything about me? 
It won’t be fair, after I told you. I don’t 
care what you talk to Mr. Wyckoff, as 
long as you don’t tell on me. If he finds 
it out, he’ll wallop me ; so, if you tell, I 
won’t let you know anything more. You 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


39 


know Tve often told you things ; so don’t 
tell on me,” pleaded Bill as he turned to 
go home. 

“ ’Twould serve him right,” muttered 
Mrs. Ford, “ and no doubt it would do 
him good to get a sound thrashing. But 
what could that teacher mean by calling me 
a chestnut-burr?” continued she, talking to 
herself. “I wonder if he meant anything 
bad by it? I don’t like to believe he did. 
Yet he must, for Bill says that he said I 
am like one full of prickles and sharpness. 
No good in that. Well, I’ll give him a 
piece of my mind ; and if there is no 
sharpness in that, it won’t be my fault. 
But what did he call me that for before 
the children ? They hate me enough now. 
Here this young teacher comes into the 
place — they say he means to be a minis- 
ter — and even he turns against me and 
makes the children hate me worse than 
ever. He seems a nice young man too, 
and I thought he would be different from 
others. But the first thing I know he be- 
gins to call me names behind my back. 
Calls me a chestnut-burr! A nice min- 


40 


TOM BARD. 


ister he will make. Will call his people 
chestnut-burrs, or something worse, from 
the pulpit if they don’t pay his salary and 
do as he says. Well, I’ll teach him a les- 
son, the young upstart ! I wish I was a 
chestnut-burr down his back; then he’d 
know what chestnut-burrs are, I guess.” 

Mrs. Ford watched for the children that 
night, and was disappointed to see them go 
quietly by, though she noticed that Tom 
Bard and Harry Meyer were not with 
them. After watching the children as 
far as she could see from her window, 
Mrs. Ford went out where she could 
watch them farther, hoping to see some 
mischief to prove to the teacher and to 
others that nothing Tut the whip would 
make the children give up folly and mis- 
chief. She could not understand why 
every child behaved so w^ell. There was 
the usual laughing and talking, but nothing 
worse ; and when the last one disappeared, 
Mrs. Ford satisfied herself by saying, 

“ Oh, they are on their good behavior 
to-night, but they are only getting ready 
for some other mischief. I’ll watch them.” 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


41 


And then, in a softer tone, she continued : 
“Why is it that I am always longing for 
somebody to come in, somebody to say a 
kind word to me ? If people knew how 
sharp words cut me, they would not say 
them so often. But then I act as though 
they did not hurt. Perhaps that is the 
reason why people do not care.” 

Soon after the children had gone by the 
teacher approached. Mrs. Ford saw him 
coming. With some misgivings, she went 
out to her gate to have the matter “out 
with him ” at once. In her heart she did 
not wish to believe that Mr. Wyckoff had 
intended to speak unkindly of her, but she 
was so constantly thinking ill of others that 
it had become a second nature to her to 
put an unkind meaning on every act. She 
was waiting for the teacher as he came up, 
though she pretended to look on the ground 
for something that was not there. At his 
pleasant “ Good-afternoon ” she looked up 
and began : 

“ Oh, it’s the teacher, is it ? I want to 
ask you something. Why do you call me 
names ?” 


42 


TOM BARD. 


“Call you names, Mrs. Ford? What do 
you mean?” asked Mr. Wyckoff, in sur- 
prise. “What names have I called you?” 

“‘What names’?” repeated Mrs. Ford, 
contemptuously. “You needn’t try to ap- 
pear so innocent ; I know all about it. 
Why did you call me an old chestnut-burr 
to the children ?” 

“ I call you an old chestnut-burr ?” asked 
the astonished teacher. “ I do not remem- 
ber calling you by any name not proper, 
and I certainly did not call you an old 
chestnut-burr.” 

“ Did you not tell the children this morn- 
ing, instead of whipping them for snowball- 
ing my poultry, that I was nothing but an 
old chestnut-burr with prickles and sharp- 
ness outside ?” 

“ No, Mrs. Ford, I did not. Perhaps I 
likened 3^ou to a chestnut-burr, but I cer- 
tainly did not call you one. Ah, yes ! I 
remember now,” said the teacher, after 
thinking a moment; but before he had 
time to say more Mrs. Ford broke in: 

“ So I thought ! A fine teacher you are, 
to call people such names behind their 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


43 


backs, when they have no friend to de- 
fend them ! Nice training the children 
will get if they are taught to call people 
old chestnut-burrs !” 

“Mrs. Ford,’^ said Mr. Wyckoff, “there 
is a mistake somewhere. I said that you 
were like a chestnut-burr, but — ” 

“ Oh, I know that ; you need not tell it 
again !” said Mrs. Ford, hastily interrupting. 
“ Of course you wish to turn all the children 
against me. Don’t they hate me enough 
already? Perhaps they have reason ; but 
what harm did I ever do you that you 
should call me such names ? If I told 
you about the children, it was because 
you were their teacher ; and, besides, I 
thought you were my friend and would 
try to keep the school-children from troub- 
ling me. I don’t want trouble. I wish 
people would let me alone. Why can’t 
they let me have peace ? It is the worst 
neighborhood I ever saw. It seems that 
all are against me. Well, if they are 
against me, I must stand my ground, that’s 
all, and pay for what I get.” • 

“Mrs. Ford,” said the teacher, “will you 


44 


TOM BARD. 


allow me to explain how I came to use your 
name as I did ? I am sorry to have offend- 
ed you. No harm was intended by liken- 
ing you to a chestnut-burr — ” 

“ So you may be sorry,” she interrupted. 
“There will be more people sorry some 
day for what they have done to me. But 
you need not explain ; it is enough that 
you said it to just the ones who give 
me the most trouble, and that, too, when 
I asked you to see that your scholars 
treated me more kindly.” 

“ Mrs. Ford, if you will not let me ex- 
plain, will you please tell me if the chil- 
dren disturbed you any this afternoon ?” 
asked Mr. Wyckoff. 

“No; they didn’t to-day, but they did 
enough yesterday for the rest of their 
lives. They’ll be at something else be- 
fore the week is out. I’ll warrant. Oh, 
I know those children. Nothing but the 
whip will keep them right, and you won’t 
use that; so I must be troubled as long as 
you teach here.” 

“ Mfs. Ford, did other teachers whip ?” 
asked he. 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


45 


“Yes, they did,” was the reply; “and it 
did a sight of good, too, I tell you.” 

“ I am sorry that the children give you so 
much trouble ; I mean to stop it if it is in 
my power to do so. But will you please 
tell me when the Norton ville children 
began to annoy you ? Perhaps we can 
get at the bottom of the difficulty if we 
can find out when and how the annoyance 
started.” 

“ They have always been so, as long as I 
have lived here,” replied Mrs. Ford; “only 
they are growing worse.” 

Mr. Wyckoff could hardly help smiling 
as he learned from her own statements that 
the children had only grown worse instead 
of better under the training of the whip. 
He thought it best to say nothing to her 
about this ; and, as he found, too, that his 
attempts to explain how he came to com- 
pare her to a chestnut-burr only excited 
her, he determined to speak of something 
else until she was willing to listen. 

“Mrs. Ford,” said he, “those children are 
troublesome, but they can be made better; 
and if you will help me, no doubt we can 


46 


TOM BARD. 


do somediing toward making them change 
their ways.’^ 

“ Me help you ?” exclaimed she, in sur- 
prise. “No use, Mr. Wyckoff; I’ve done 
all I can. Fve watched and scolded and 
told their parents and teachers, and the 
minister too, about them. I’ve tried to 
frighten them in every way, but they grow 
worse instead of growing better. Children 
are not what they were when I was a young 
girl.” 

“ Perhaps, if you will help me, we can 
think of some way to make them better ; 
and by the help of a greater One we may 
change them a great deal.” 

“ I don’t believe that you and I can do 
anything,” replied Mrs. Ford. “Though 
they like you better than any teacher they 
have had, I don’t believe that you can drive 
the mischief out of them. It’s born in them. 
Of course, God can do it ; he can do any- 
thing. I often wonder why he don’t. I 
wish,” she added, in a lower tone, “that 
he would make me better.” 

“ Now, you must not discourage me be- 
fore we begin. With God on our side, we 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 47 

can do a great deal if we try and keep at 
it. Will you help me ?” 

“ Of course I am willing to do all I can, 
but I warn you beforehand that we can’t do 
anything. What can I do ?” 

“ There are two ways we can take. I 
have noticed that when I do favors for 
people, or get them to do favors for me, 
they are often willing to be influenced by 
me. I propose that we take those two 
ways — do something for the children, and 
get them to do something for us.” 

“ I am willing enough to do anything I 
can for the children — or for any one else, 
for that matter ; but let me tell you they 
take good care not to ask me.” 

“You must not wait to be asked, Mrs. 
Ford ; take any chance you may get. If 
you can’t do them a favor,, ask them to 
do one for you. Let the children run 
on errands for you.” 

“Run errands for me!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Ford, looking at the teacher in surprise. 
“ No, indeed 1 That’ll only give them a 
chance to play some trick on me.” 

“You must trust them.” 


48 


TOM BA AW. 


“‘Trust them’! and have them laugh 
at me for losing my senses I No, Mr. 
Wyckoff. Your meaning may be good 
enough, but I know the children too well ; 
that way will not do. I am willing, though, 
to do anything else likely to help. If it was 
baking them a cookie or giving them an 
apple now and then, I would do that. I 
would like to see the children have good 
things, even though they do give me so 
much trouble. I don’t hate them.” 

“Just the thing, Mrs. Ford,” said the 
teacher. “The heart Js right above the 
stomach, and often the one is reached by 
means of the other. The way to win 
many children is to give them something 
nice to eat. They understand that. But 
you can do them other favors too.” 

“ I would like to know what else I can 
do ?” 

“ There is one thing — though I hesitate 
to speak about it — which if you would do, 
half the trouble would be over.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Ford. 
“A favor from me and half the trouble over? 
I can’t understand vou.” 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 


49 


“ Mrs. Ford, if you will not be offended, 
I will tell you. The fact is, to help each 
other in this we must be frank as well as 
friendly.” 

“ Mr. Wyckoff, I won’t be offended. You 
mean to do right; and, besides, you are the 
first one who has ever thought enough 
of me to ask me to help make any one 
better.” 

“ The favor is this, Mrs. Ford : if you do 
not watch or scold the children, or tell their 
parents of their mischief, you will do a great 
deal toward stopping it. I am sorry to speak 
of this at all, but several of the boys con- 
fessed to me that they annoy you because 
you watch and scold them, and because you 
tell their parents about their mischief. No 
doubt you have reason for this ; yet I be- 
lieve that if you said nothing at all about 
these wrong-doings, it would have a good 
effect on them.” 

For a while Mrs. Ford was silent. She 
was thinking, and thinking as she probably 
had not thought before ; then she said has- 
tily, “ I will consider it. But I must go now. 
Good-afternoon and she hurried to the 


4 


50 


TOM BARD. 


house, while the teacher walked slowly 
away. 

If Mrs. Ford was a scolding, inconsistent 
woman, she was not unreasonable. She had 
a kind heart, but its kindness was hidden and 
encrusted by hardness. The frank talk of 
the teacher had gently unlocked the door 
of her heart where the kindness was kept, 
his candor had burst that door open ; and 
now Mrs. Ford wanted to be alone to 
let the good spirit come quietly from its 
hiding-place. 

Is there always an evil influence ready to 
hinder our doing right? There was one 
ready to hinder Mrs. Ford. Scarcely had 
she begun to think that perhaps she was 
to blame for the annoyances of the children 
than, looking from her window, she saw two 
boys chasing, as she thought, he^ cow down 
the road. Her better feelings were gone 
in a moment. She did not stop to notice 
that the cow came quietly. All Mrs. Ford 
saw was that Tom Bard and Harry Mey- 
er — two of the leaders in mischief — were 
driving her cow ; she was certain that they 
meant to annoy her. As soon as the boys 


A CHESTNUT-BURR. 5 I 

came near she rushed out and at once be- 
gan scolding them for chasing her cow. 
Tom and Harry, not expecting such thanks, 
did not stop to explain or to reply at all, 
but, driving the cow near the barn, ran 
past Mrs. Ford as fast as their feet would 
carry them. 

“Well,” said Harry, when far enough 
away, “ she has not changed much yet. 
Can’t she scold ?” 

“ Mr. Wyckoff says we are all made for 
something in which we will excel if we prac- 
tice it,” added Tom. “ Mrs. Ford seems to 
be made for scolding. I’d as lief be chased 
by a dog as have a woman scold me.” 

“That’s the way with me. I believe I 
could run almost as fast as a locomotive if 
Mrs. Ford were close behind me scolding,” 
said Harry. “I suppose she thought we 
were chasing her cow. Well, we weren’t; 
more than that, we did what Mr. Wyckoff 
asked us to do.” 

“ Harry,” spoke Tom, “ the teacher knows 
a good deal, but I don’t believe he knows 
how to manage Mrs. Ford. I am glad, 
though, that we didn’t talk back. When 


52 


TOM BARD. 


a fellow holds his tongue, how good he 
feels afterward ! I don’t often have that 
feeling, though.” 

‘‘ I am trying to hold in,” replied Harry, 
“but it’s avrful hard sometimes. I mean 
to keep on. Mr. Wyckoff says that the 
boy who can keep from saying anything 
when he is angry or excited will be a mas- 
ter some day. He who can control his 
tongue will soon command greater things.” 

“ My, Harry ! If it is as much harder 
to control big things as they are larger 
than the tongue, then I may as well give 
up. Tom Bard will never be master of 
even a monkey. But say, Harry, will you 
drive her cow home again ?” 

“Yes, if I get a chance. You know 
what we promised Mr. Wyckoff.” 

“That’s so.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE CHESTNUTS. 

A fter Tom and Harry had gone, 
Mrs. Ford put her cow in the stable 
and resolved that if the teacher did not 
punish those boys she would see that some 
one else did. Near night she started up 
the road on an errand, and on the way 
stopped for a few minutes at the house 
of Mr. Bangs. 

“ Did your cow come home all safe this 
afternoon ?” asked Mr. Bangs. “ I didn’t 
feel like trusting those boys, yet hardly 
thought that Harry Meyer would play a 
trick on you. That Harry is a pretty 
good sort of a boy, but Tom Bard is a 
kind of fallen angel ; yet he has good in 
him, though it’s awfully mixed with bad.” 

“If he is a fallen angel, he won’t stay 
down always ; that’s my opinion,” said 
Mr. Bangs’s father. “That boy has good 

53 


54 


TOM BARD. 


in him, and it will show itself, too, some 
day, notwithstanding his love of fun.” 

“It is not all fun, father,” replied the 
younger Mr. Bangs ; “ a good deal of it 
is mischief and wickedness. I believe the 
devil has much to do with some of those 
boys.” 

“You’re right, Mr. Bangs,” spoke Mrs. 
Ford. 

“Well, if Satan does tempt them, it is 
because he sees something in them to 
make it worth while,” said the elder Mr. 
Bangs. “ I don’t have any more good 
feeling toward him than you, but I do 
respect his judgment on boys. When he 
goes for a boy, I make up my mind that 
there is something in that youngster worth 
the efforts of good people. It is too bad 
that we so often let the evil one get the 
start of us.” 

“ Father’s always got a good word to 
say for every one,” spoke the younger 
' Mr. Bangs, half apologizing to Mrs. Ford. 
“ He is so kind to everybody, and has so 
little to do with business nowadays, that 
he forgets the wickedness of others.” 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


55 


“No, my son, I don’t forget,” replied 
the kind old gentleman, “but I remenber 
the good as well as the bad. Satan has 
made bad work in the world, but he does 
not control everything. Our heavenly 
Father rules yet, and he will show some 
time that he holds many of those boys 
too. They have Christian parents, the 
most of them, and the Christianity will 
come out in the children ; see if it don’t.” 

“ It would be strange if it did not show 
itself in Tom Bard,” said Mrs. Bangs. 
“If ever a boy had a good father and 
mother, he has.” 

“ He don’t show it very much,” added 
Mrs. Ford, bitterly. 

“You didn’t say whether your cow came 
home safe or not, Mrs. Ford; but I sup- 
pose it did ?” said Mr. Bangs. 

“Yes,” replied she; “the boys chased 
it home. But how did you come to let 
them do it? The bothering thing! she is 
always running away as soon as I let her 
out to drink. I suppose she troubles you 
too? I am sorry that she does.” 

“Oh, the trouble isn’t anything,” an- 


56 


TOM BARD. 


swered Mr. Bangs. “ I’ll tell you how I 
happened to let the boys drive her home. 
They came here after school and asked if 
they might. They said it was too bad to 
have you run after the cow every day, and 
they could just as well drive her along as 
not.” 

“Did they say that?” asked Mrs. Ford, 
in surprise. 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Bangs, “they did; 
and, more than that, Harry Meyer said 
that, as you were all alone, it did not 
seem right that you should run around 
the neighborhood hunting your cow every 
night, so he and Tom had determined to 
drive her home, for they could do it going 
from school just as well as not ; so I 
thought they meant all right and let them 
drive her down. I am sorry if they chased 
her. I can’t believe the boys meant to worry 
the cow, for their faces looked honest when 
they came to me.” 

“ I don’t think they drove her very fast, 
but I thought it was some trick of those 
boys. I can’t understand boys, any way,” 
said Mrs. Ford. 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


57 


“If you ever do, just let the world know 
it,’* answered Mr. Bangs. “ I don’t under- 
stand them, either, and I doubt if any one 
else does.” 

“ It is not so hard to understand a boy,” 
added Mr. Bangs’s father, “if you only look 
at him aright. It is just this way with al- 
most every boy : the good angel and the 
bad are trying to lead him — the one right, 
the other wrong. Sometimes he goes one 
way, and sometimes the other ; that’s the 
whole of it. There is no mystery at all. 
If grown people would only give the good 
angel a helping hand now and then, we 
would have less trouble with bad boys.” 

Mrs. Ford did not stay much longer, and, 
hurrying to do her errand, went home. She 
suspected that the teacher had induced the 
boys to bring her cow, and believed now 
that Harry and Tom meant to do her a 
kindness. She determined to show that 
she appreciated it. She at once set about 
baking doughnuts to give them the next 
morning. If Tom and Harry could have 
looked into her heart as she placed the 
nicely-browned doughnuts on a dish, they 


58 


TOM BARD. 


might almost have seen their photographs 
on the cake and themselves seated in the 
heart of Mrs. Ford. That one act of 
kindness won her. Poor woman ! kind- 
ness from others was a rare thing for 
her, and it was enjoyed the more. 

The next morning she was waiting at the 
gate as the teacher came by. She told the 
story of the boys and related what she had 
heard at Mr. Bangs’s. 

“ It will not be so difficult as you thought,” 
said Mr. Wyckoff, “to do them favors.” 

“No, indeed,” replied Mrs. Ford. “I am 
sorry to have thought so unkindly of those 
boys; but it did seem as if there was noth- 
ing good in them. Yet I might have known 
that they are not all bad. Just try this,” she 
added, changing the conversation as she 
handed Mr. Wyckoff one of her dough- 
nuts. “I thought I would make a few 
and give Tom and Harry a couple each.” 

“That is good,” said the teacher as he 
ate the cake. “ Haven’t you another to 
spare for me to eat with my dinner ? That 
tastes like those my mother used to make 
when I was a boy.” 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


59 


Mr. Wyckoff could hardly have pleased 
Mrs. Ford more than by speaking well of 
her doughnuts and asking for more. 

“ Do you really like them ? Why, I’d 
give you half a dozen every day if you 
would take them. Wait until I run and 
get some.” 

Mrs. Ford soon came back with six 
beautiful doughnuts wrapped neatly in a 
paper. 

“Here,” said she; “take these. I’m glad 
you like them. My boys used to like them 
too, but they’re gone now and Mrs. Ford’s 
apron wiped away two tears that came to 
her cheeks. 

“ Oh, thank you for these. But there 
are too many ; it will make me sick to eat 
all these. Had not you better take some 
back and give me more another time ?” 

“ Oh no ; keep them. They won’t hurt 
you. You can have more whenever you 
want them.” 

As the teacher walked away he said, 

“If you do not reach the boys’ hearts 
with these, you will reach a place very 
near their hearts. When I was a boy, 


6o 


TOM BARD. 


cake was about as convincing as any 
argument that could be presented to me. 
Boys are the same now, and, unless I mis- 
take, you will convince 'Tom and Harry 
by such doughnuts that you are their 
friend. If you win two, you will soon 
win more.” 

Mrs. Ford was waiting when Tom and 
Harry came in sight, but she was sorry 
to see Bill Snyder and John Warner just 
behind them. The boys did not notice 
her, and as they came nearer the barn 
hid her from them. John had not been 
at school the day before. Bill was just 
telling him that Mrs. Ford had told the 
teacher about the snowballing, and that 
Mr. Wyckoff had given some of the boys 
the worst talking to they had ever had. 

“Is that so?”. said John. “Then I guess 
it’s about time she is paid off for telling ;” 
and with that he picked up a large stone 
and flung it with all his might against the 
side of the barn. 

The rattle of the stone startled Tom 
and Harry. For a moment both were 
pleased, but better thoughts came to them, 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


6l 


and as they saw John pick up another 
stone Tom said in a low voice, “ Don’t, 
John,” and Harry added, “You’ll have 
Mrs. Ford out after us as likely as not.” 

Bill said softly, 

“ Hit it again, John. She won’t know 
who did it.” 

Another stone from John’s hand struck 
the barn. 

Just then Tom and Harry caught sight 
of Mrs. Ford, and in a loud whisper that 
she could hear Tom called, 

“There she is now, boys! Let’s run, 
or we’ll catch it.” 

At once he and Harry started. The 
sharp voice of Mrs. Ford — “ Did you 
throw those stones ?” — made them run 
the faster. Bill too saw her, and he 
would gladly have followed to get out 
of the way of a scolding; but Mrs. Ford 
was by this time through the gate and 
would have headed him off. 

“See here, Mrs. Ford,” said he; “I don’t 
want you to think I threw those stones. 

I didn’t. I haven’t thrown a stone to- 


62 


TOM BARD. 


“ Who said you did ?” replied she. “ You 
seem guilty enough.’* 

“The guilty ones generally show it by 
running,” said John, coolly. 

“ The young rascals !” cried Mrs. Ford, 
looking at Tom and Harry, still hurrying 
on to school. “ They pretended to be 
my friends ; they drove my cow from 
Mr. Bangs’s for me last night, and here 
they go flinging stones against my barn 
and hen-house. That teacher can’t de- 
ceive me ; those boys are deceitful scamps. 
The whole lot of you are alike.” 

John and Bill slowly passed Mrs. Ford, 
but as soon as they were by they quick- 
ened their steps. Neither of them replied, 
lest he should draw her anger from Tom 
and Harry to himself. 

When at a safe distance John said 
laughingly, 

“Well, we got off all right then. It 
was a close shave, though ; I didn’t know 
she was there.” 

“Won’t Tom and Harry get it when she 
has a chance ! Mr. Wyckoff will know 
about it too,” replied Bill. “ Say, John, 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


63 

you won’t tell him that I put you up to 
throwing stones, will you, if he asks 
about it? for I didn’t, you know.” 

“ Can’t say,” answered John. “ But you 
did put me up to it ; you told me to throw 
a stone against the barn. And, besides, 
you told me all about the trouble. If you 
hadn’t, I wouldn’t have thought of hitting 
the barn, or anything else.” 

“Well, don’t you tell on me, or you’ll 
be sorry for it,” muttered Bill. “Any 
way, John, it wasn’t fair for you to throw 
the stones Snd then make believe that 
Tom and Harry did it.” 

“ I didn’t make believe ; I didn’t say any- 
thing to Mrs. Ford about Tom and Harry. 
They ran away, and all I said was that the 
guilty ones run away. I didn’t put in 
‘when they can.’ We wanted to run 
away, only we couldn’t. If Mrs. Ford 
wanted to think that Tom and Harry 
threw the stones, that was her business. 
If they didn’t want her to think so, it 
was their business to stop and tell her. 

I don’t stand up for people who run 
away.” 


64 


TOM BARD. 


“ Maybe you’re right,” replied Bill, doubt- 
fully. '‘All I ask is for you to keep still about 
me if there comes any trouble.” 

“ I don’t generally tell more than I have 
to,” answered John. “ But don’t you worry. 
Throwing a stone or two against a barn 
won’t kill any of us.” 

Poor Mrs. Ford ! The rattling of those 
stones against her barn was a sad disappoint- 
ment, and the harsh words she spoke to Tom 
and Harry were very different from those 
with which she had intended to meet them. 
When she saw them run and heard Bill’s 
denial that he had thrown the stones, she 
feared that Tom and Harry had done the 
mischief ; and John’s quiet insinuation made 
her feel sure that the boys who ran away 
were the guilty ones. Hard and bitter 
thoughts came into her mind as she 
stood looking at the boys going toward 
the school. 

Had those two whom she was just about 
to love deceived her ? Had they only pre- 
tended to be kind that better chances to 
annoy her might be given? Had they 
thrown those stones to provoke her? Had 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


65 


Harry learned from the teacher her kind 
intentions, and to show that they wanted 
none of her friendship had they done this? 

“Well, I will not try any more,” said she, 
sorrowfully, to herself as she passed through 
the gate and took up the plate of cakes stand- 
ing inside. “ They meant to deceive me ; I 
can’t trust them. It’s no use. I cannot 
have friends here, even among the chil- 
dren. Shall I ever have any again? It 
is hard to live so hated and tormented 
by every one. Oh, I long for somebody 
to love me— ssome one whom I can trust 
and love.” 

As she came to her door the old cat 
rubbed himself against her dress, as if he 
would say, “ Though I am only a cat, I love 
you.” 

Stooping down and stroking him, Mrs. 
Ford said, “Yes, Jack, you and the cow 
and the fowls seem to be the only friends 
I have.” Giving him a doughnut, she con- 
tinued: “You have some one to care for 
you, but the poor old woman is alone. If 
not forgotten, she is worse: she is hated by 
those on earth. And is she forgotten up in 


66 


TOM BARD. 


heaven ? Is there no friend for me there ? 
If I only felt sure that the Friend that stick- 
eth closer than a brother was mine, it would 
be easier to bear this trouble. But I am so 
uncertain ; I am so unworthy. Yet he is so 
good, so loving, so forgiving, it may be that 
he pities and even loves me. He knows 
that I wish to do better, but it is so hard 
with all against me/’ 

All through the day Mrs. Ford’s disap- 
pointment came back to her, sometimes 
with angry and at other times with sad 
feelings. She did not wish to believe that 
Tom and Harry had not meant to do her a 
kindness ; yet if they had, she could not 
understand why they should throw stones 
at her barn. 

At noon, when she let the cow out to 
drink, Mrs. Ford was very careful not to 
allow her to get away and so give the two 
boys an opportunity to do another favor. 
Two spirits seemed struggling to control 
the woman ; now one and then the other 
held the mastery. All the afternoon she 
watched for the children to come from 
school, sometimes intending to scold, and 


THE CHESTNUTS. 6 / 

again determined to try once more for 
their good-will. 

When the children came in sight the evil 
spirit seemed to have control, and Mrs. Ford 
went out to the gate. There the good spirit 
gained the mastery — at least in part — and 
Mrs. Ford was silent ; she even seemed 
not to notice the children as they passed 
quietly by. 

They had gone but a short distance 
when Betty, the colored washerwoman, 
came along. 

“ Dem chilluns trouble you, Mis’ Ford ?” 
asked she. “Chilluns mighty bodderin’ 
sometimes.” ' 

“That’s true, Betty,” replied Mrs. Ford; 
“ but they did not bother me to-night. They 
are often a nuisance, though, and I wish they 
would let me alone.” 

“ My ole man says, ‘ Betty, chilluns be 
like bumble-bees. Dey make a big noise, 
but dey don’t sting much.’ So he says, 

‘ Betty, don’t knock at dem, an’ dey’ll let 
you alone ; leave dem, and dey’ll just 
keep makin’ honey ; but frow stones or 
sticks and tings at dem, an’ de fun begins 


68 


TOM BARD. 


at once.’ Ned — he’s my ole man — knows 
heaps of tings ; he says, ‘ Don’t bodder dem 
bumble-bees. Maybe ye’ll want to see 
dem when winter comes ; den yer can’t.’ 
He means chilluns. An’ winter’s when 
we get old. Ned and me is old now, an 
we don’t hear any of dem bumblebees 
’round as we useter. Dey hab all gone. 
It’s mighty lonely fer us ole folks, I tell ye. 
But I must go.” 

The homely comparison of children with 
bees, together with old Betty’s words con- 
cerning her feeling of loneliness, made Mrs. 
Ford the more ready to listen to the good 
spirit; and she was glad to see Mr. Wyck- 
off coming along. He asked how the boys 
liked the cakes, and was surprised to hear 
Mrs. Ford’s story about the throwing of the 
stones. 

“ I don't believe Thomas and Harry threw 
them,” said the teacher. “I am sure that 
you can trust those two boys. They are 
full of mischief, but they have made up 
their minds to treat you kindly, and they 
will not annoy you. I am sorry that the 
same cannot be said of the other two. 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


Either John Warner or William Snyder, 
or both, threw those stones, I am cer- 
tain.’' 

“ Mr. Wyckoff,” spoke Mrs. Ford, in an 
unusual tone of voice, “I did not tell you 
of this that the boys might be punished. 
Please say nothing about it to any of 
them.” 

The teacher looked at her closely for a 
moment, and then quietly replied : 

“ Certainly I will say nothing, if that is 
your wish. But take my word for it: 
Thomas Bard and Harry Meyer had noth- 
ing to do with the mischief this morning.” 

“Why did they run away, then?” she 
asked. “ That showed guilt. Besides, 
John Warner did as much as to charge 
them with it.” 

“ Running away may show fright as well 
as guilt. Harry and Thomas were no 
doubt startled when the stones struck the 
barn, and when they saw you they were 
afraid you would think them guilty. Even 
if John Warner and William Snyder did 
hint to you that the others threw the 
stones, it was just what I would expect 


70 


TOM BARD. 


those boys to do. They are ready to 
throw the blame on any one if they may 
escape. Especially is this true of Wil- 
liam. I am sorry for that boy. But even 
he has good in him. How to separate that 
good from the bad is more than I know. 
Perhaps you can help me.” 

“ I help you with Bill Snyder ! I doubt 
if there is enough good in him to make it 
worth while.” 

“ He has a soul that is worth saving.” 

“True; I was not thinking of that.” 

“You will not lose faith in Thomas and 
Harry, will you, nor yet in the power of 
cake and kindness to win the boys ?” add- 
ed the teacher, smiling. 

“ No ; I won’t give up. If they meant 
to do me a kindness by bringing my cow 
home, it is only fair that I show that the 
kindness is not forgotten.” 

“ Don’t forget, though,” added Mr. Wyck- 
off as he turned to go, “ that by kindness 
you may win all. By keeping on I am 
sure that you will win every child who 
goes by. When they see your real better 
self, all will like you.’ 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


71 


Hardly anything the teacher ever said 
had so much effect on Mrs. Ford as this 
delicate compliment. Almost every one 
wishes to be thought good, and few things 
please us more than to know that people 
believe we are good and kind. Mr. Wyck- 
off did not flatter. His knowledge of hu- 
man nature and his good sense taught him 
that it would encourage her in doing well 
if she knew that one at least expected her 
to do well. 

The next morning Mrs. Ford was at the 
gate with nice apples as well as cake when 
Tom and Harry came by. As the boys 
saw her they took the opposite side of the 
road and walked rapidly. She called pleas- 
antly : 

“Boys, see here! I have something for 
you. You brought my cow home the other 
night, and saved me the trouble of going 
after her. I did not thank you then ; I 
thought that you did it from mischief, but 
Mr. Bangs told me all about it. I won’t 
forget it. Come, take a piece of cake 
and an apple as part of my thanks.” 

The boys looked at each other, hardly 


72 


TOM BARD. 


knowing whether to run or to go toward 
Mrs. Ford. Seeing their hesitation, she 
added : 

“ Come, let us be friends. You’ve begun ; 
I want to keep it up.” 

Tom led the way, and both boys took 
the cake and apples with a hearty “ Thank 
you !” that did Mrs. Ford more good than 
any word she had heard from the children 
for a long time. 

The boys turned halfway around and 
started for school ; then Tom stopped, 
and, turning back, he looked up into her 
face and said, 

“ Mrs. Ford, I haven’t done right. I 
am sorry. ’Twas mean in me to snow- 
ball your fowls ; I wish I had not done 
it. I’ve felt ashamed enough about it ever 
since. I hope they are all right now?” 

“I too am sorry, Mrs. Ford,” said Harry, 
“for the way I’ve acted toward you. You 
won’t have any more trouble with me, 
though. I hope you’ll forgive me for 
the past.” 

Mrs. Ford stood speechless, but the tears 
came. One rolled down each cheek ; the 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


73 


boys saw them. Those tears spoke more 
than words could. A boy with real good 
in him is powerless before a woman’s tears. 
Though he cannot understand them, he 
is conquered by them. 

Mrs. Ford’s first impulse was to throw 
her arms about the boys and kiss them. 
It was the first time for years that any one 
had asked her forgiveness. Her next im- 
pulse was to run to the house to hide her 
tears. Yet she stood still, looking at the 
boys for a few moments in silence; then, 
wiping away the tears, she said, 

“ Boys, if any one is to be forgiven, I 
am the one. I have not treated you kind- 
ly, and I am sorry for it. I too mean to do 
differently. I am glad — more than I can 
tell — to find that you are my friends. In 
future, if I find fault or ^peak unkindly, 
don’t turn away from me. I have been 
so long without friends !” 

Tom and Harry were silent now. Their 
feelings toward Mrs. Ford had completely 
changed ; they saw that she was just as 
tender-hearted and as kind as their own 
mothers. Each boy thought his own moth- 


74 


TOM BARD. 


er the best woman in the world. Both wish- 
ed to show Mrs. Ford their feelings toward 
her, but, boylike, could not think of the 
best thing to say. 

“Mrs. Ford,” Tom blurted out, “if any 
boy troubles you, just let us know, and 
we’ll thrash him. — Won’t we, Harry.” 

“We will try all we can to keep them 
from troubling you,” added Harry. “ But, 
Mrs. Ford, the boys don’t know you. We 
didn’t before, or we wouldn’t have troubled 
you. We thought you hated us, and now 
Tom and I know you don’t. People who 
hate boys don’t watch to give them cakes 
and apples.” 

“Will you boys answer me one ques- 
tion ?” asked Mrs. Ford. 

“ If we can,” replied Tom. 

“ Did you boys throw those stones 
against the barn yesterday ?” 

“ No, ma’am,” answered Harry and Tom 
at once. 

“We had nothing to do with it,” added 
Tom. “ But don’t ask who did throw ; I 
guess no one will do it again. We must 
go now and the boys started for school. 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


75 


“ I tell you, Harr}^” said Tom, when they 
were out of Mrs. Ford’s hearing, “ we boys 
have been big fools, haven’t we, bothering 
her, when she is one of the best friends we 
can get ?” 

“It never did seem just right to tease 
Mrs. Ford,” replied Harry. “ I am sorry I 
had anything to do with it, and feel mean 
enough to kick myself a hundred times 
over if it could be done without hurting 
too much.” 

“ It is mean work teasing, and meaner 
still to tease a kind-hearted woman, as 
Mrs. Ford is.”, 

“ Folks say the devil gets into boys and 
makes them do mischief; I believe they are 
half right. He has made us do some dirty 
work, and I am tired of doing his jobs.” 

“ Going to turn and be a Christian, 
Harry?” inquired Tom. 

“ I don’t know that I mean to be a Chris- 
tian yet. I wouldn’t be so often ashamed 
of myself if I were one, and I wish I were 
one.” . 

“ So do I, and I mean to start after a 
while.” 


76 


TOM BARD. 


“ It wouldn’t hurt us to start now, would 
it, Tom ? We could both stand being a 
little better without being too good to live ; 
and I do wish to be better.” 

“ So do I ; but I mean to wait a while be- 
fore beginning, though you don’t catch me 
in any more tricks on Mrs. Ford.” 

There was no little surprise among the 
scholars when the two boys told the story 
of the apples and the cake. Tom con- 
cluded with, 

“ Boys, Mr. Wyckoff was right. Mrs. 
Ford is like a chestnut-burr, but the prick- 
les are only on the outside. She’s just as 
good inside as anybody, and Harry and I 
mean to stand up for her, too, after this. 
If you fellows play any tricks on her, just 
count us out. You’ll find us on the other 
side.” 

“ Rather sudden conversion,” sneered John 
Warner. “I didn’t think a cake and an ap- 
ple would do it with Tom Bard.” 

Tom felt the intended insult, and was 
ready to give John a harsher answer, when 
Harry spoke : 

“ I guess you boys would have felt differ- 


THE CHESTNUTS. 


77 


endy toward Mrs. Ford too if you had seen 
the tears she wiped away when we said we 
were sorry we had teased her.” 

“ Did you say that?” asked John Warner, 
in surprise. 

“Of course we did,” replied Harry. 
“Why not? We were sorry.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t knuckle down to a 
cross old woman and own I had done 
wrong,” said John. “I’d just stand by 
it.” 

“ So would Satan,” spoke Tom, in an 
undertone ; then he added in a louder 
voice: “Stand by your wrong? That 
is worse than doing it.” 

“ He’s getting good pretty fast,” sneered 
John to Bill Snyder. 

“ Well, there’s plenty of room,” replied 
Tom, whose good nature at once asserted 
itself 

And with this the talk stopped. 


CHAPTER IV. 


MJ^S. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 

M rs. ford watched Tom and Harry 
until they had gone far up the road, 
and then said to herself, as she turned to 
go to the house, 

“ The dear boys ! And yet I have been 
foolish enough to hate and annoy them ! 
But I will not think of that. They are 
my friends now. Yes, I have at last found 
friends whom I love, and who will perhaps 
love me.” 

With a heart lighter and happier than she 
had had for many years, Mrs. Ford entered 
her home. In her easy-chair, her face hid- 
den in her hands, she sat for a long time 
thinking of the past; then, dropping on 
her knees and almost burying her face 
in the cushion of the chair, she began in 
a low tone to pray. She thanked God 
first that after so many lonely years she 

78 


MRS. FORD^S BETTER SELF. 79 

had found friends, and prayed that she 
might never lose them. Then, with voice 
broken by sobs, she confessed her own 
sin and owned that it was her folly that 
had driven from her those who would have 
been kind. Earnestly she begged for par- 
don and for strength to live a different life. 

With a new purpose Mrs. Ford arose 
from her knees ; but she was to find that, 
while it is easy to drive friends away, it is 
far more difficult to win them back. 

One afternoon, as she was in her barn 
gathering eggs, she heard children’s voices 
near. As they came opposite the barn she 
heard Nellie Harris, a pretty black-eyed 
little girl whom everybody loved, say, 
“Don’t, Bill; please don’t!” 

There was so much pleading in the 
voice that Mrs. Ford could not help look- 
ing through a crack in the boards at the 
children. She saw Bill Snyder in the act 
of pulling a book from Nellie’s hand. The 
child struggled to hold it, and when Bill 
pulled it away she clung to his arm, beg- 
ging him to give the book back. In her 
efforts to get it again Nellie probably 


8o 


TQM BARD. 


pinched Bill’s arm more than she in- 
tended. The great rough fellow caught 
the child by the shoulder and shook her 
rudely. 

“ Take that,” said he, “ for pinching me.” 

This was too much for Mrs. Ford. Be- 
fore the children saw that she was near she 
had thrown open a door and was by them. 
Bill felt her hand boxing his ears as she 
said, 

“And you take that and that for abusing 
a little girl ! Is there no man in you at all ? 
Or in you, either,” she asked, looking at the 
other boys, “ to let this big cowardly fellow 
tease and hurt a helpless little girl ?” 

Frightened at Mrs. Ford’s sudden appear- 
ance, and not knowing but she might attack 
them next, the children started to run, nor 
did they stop until far away. Tom and 
Harry, who were some distance ahead, had 
not noticed the trouble, and eagerly asked, 
as the children came up, why they ran. 

As Bill Snyder was too frightened to 
say anything, the others told the story, 
making it appear as bad as possible for 
Mrs. Ford. 


MRS. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 


8l 

“ I don’t believe that she boxed Bill’s 
ears for nothing,” said Harry. — “ How was 
it, Bill ? What did you do ?” 

“ ‘ Do ’ !” replied he. “ I didn’t do any- 
thing to Mrs. Ford ; I did not say a word 
to her at all. — Did I, boys?” 

No,” answered John Warner, Bill’s 
friend ; “ he didn’t do anything at all to 
Mrs. Ford. But it’s just like her, inter- 
fering everywhere that she has no busi- 
ness.” 

“Now, see here,” said Tom: “Mrs. 
Ford wouldn’t hit Bill without cause ; he 
did something. If it wasn’t to her, it was 
to somebody else. — What did he do, Ben ?” 
asked Tom of Bennie Moore. 

“ He took Nellie Harris’s book away, 
and then shook her because she tried to 
get it back. I guess Mrs. Ford saw that, 
and that’s the reason she hit Bill.” 

“ My father will ’tend to her,” said Bill, 
growing brave as he saw that many sided 
with him, and as distance separated from 
Mrs. Ford. “When she gets behind the 
bars of a jail, she will learn to let folks 
alone when they don’t trouble her.” 

6 


82 


TOM BARD, 


‘“Behind the bars’!” repeated Tom. 
“If anybody ought to go behind the bars 
of the jail for troubling folks who don’t do 
anything to them, it isn’t Mrs. Ford. When 
they begin to put such people in jail, there 
will be a large seat vacant in our school.” 

“ Keep your mouth shut, Tom Bard,” 
shouted Bill, angrily, “or you’ll have rea- 
son to keep it open. You’re a great friend 
of Mrs. Ford since she keeps you in cakes 
and apples.” 

. “You would be glad to get some your- 
self,” retorted Tom. 

“ Don’t want any of her trash,” replied 
Bill. “She can’t turn me with a peck of 
such things.” 

“ Probably she will turn others, though, 
when she stops your teasing the little ones 
who can’t take their own part.” 

“ She must not take hold of me again, 
that’s all,” replied Bill. 

“ Bill, if you will let others alone, Mrs. 
Ford won’t trouble you,” spoke Harry. 

“ It’s none of her business what I do,” 
replied Bill, “and my father will see that 
she knows that, too.” 


MRS. FORD^S BETTER SELF. 83 

The children soon separated to their 
homes. Mr. Snyder had gone away to 
stay some days, and when he returned 
Bill’s anger at Mrs. Ford had so far pass- 
ed away that he did not think it worth 
while to tell his father about her at all. 
But Bill did not forget the boxing his ears 
had suffered. When he teased any of the 
smaller children, he was careful that it 
should not be near Mrs. Ford’s place. 

The next morning after her trouble with 
Bill, Nellie Harris carried to Mrs. Ford the 
finest red apple to be found. When she 
gave it she said, 

“ If it hadn’t been for you, Bill Snyder 
would have torn my book. I was too 
frightened last night to tell you.” 

The good woman was delighted. She 
feared that her sudden and rather harsh 
punishment of Bill had frightened all the 
children away from her. Taking the ap- 
ple, she stooped down and kissed Nellie 
again and again, until 'the child was fright- 
ened. 

Seeing Nellie’s terrified look, Mrs. Ford 
said, 


84 


TOM BARD. 


“You dear little one, are you, too, afraid 
of the poor old woman? You need not 
be. She loves children too well to hurt 
them, or to allow others, either, to pain 

them. I am so glad that you cared enough 
for me to bring me this nice apple.” 

The child’s fears were soon gone. It 
took but little to convince her, after what 
had happened the night before, that Mrs. 
Ford was her friend, and Nellie told how 
she and the other smaller children dreaded 
Bill. 

“If Tom Bard and Harry Meyer, Ben- 
nie Moore and some of the other boys 
were larger, they would not let Bill trou- 
ble us,” said she, “ but he is the biggest 
boy in school, and John Warner is the next 
biggest. He is Bill’s friend, and always 
stands by him. I wish big boys didn’t 
know they were so big ; maybe they 
wouldn’t tease smaller children so much 

then. ” 

Mrs. Ford kept the red apple as a choice 
treasure, and did not eat it until it had com- 
menced to decay. Nellie often tasted of 
Mrs. Ford’s doughnuts after that, and fre- 


MJ^S. FORD^S BETTER SELF. 85 

quently, with some of the other little girls, 
stopped to talk with her. 

Before the summer term ended Mrs. 
Ford had made many friends among the 
children. They had almost altogether 
ceased to annoy her, and when the school 
opened again, toward September, with Mr. 
Wyckoff remaining as teacher, she was as 
glad as anybody to see the children go by, 
and more happy still to see the face of the 
preceptor. 

One afternoon Mr. Wyckoff met Mrs. 
Ford at her gate and stopped to talk a 
while. 

“ Well,” said he, “ how do the children 
treat you now ?” 

“They are as peaceable as I can wish,” 
was the reply. “ They seem to be entirely 
changed, though the change, no doubt, is as 
much in me as in them.” 

“ Kindness goes a great ways,” said the 
teacher. “ I find them very much improved 
in school, and I am sure that most of them 
are your warm friends.” 

“ Mr. Wyckoff,” she answered, “it is ow- 
ing to you. You have a different way from 


86 


TOM BARD. 


Other teachers, and — Well, you have done 
me a world of good. This has been the hap- 
piest summer I have passed in many years.’' 

“ It might have been still happier, Mrs. 
Ford,” said the teacher, in a kind and 
pleasant way, “ if you had for your 
friend the One who sticketh closer than 
a brother.” 

“ He is my friend,” replied she, quietly, 
“and has been for years, though my life 
has not shown it, but he has never been 
so dear to me as the past summer.” 

“ What ! are you a Christian ?” asked the 
teacher, in surprise. “I am glad to know 
it. I wish I had known it before ; you 
might have helped me so much more 
then.” 

“ I don’t wonder that you did not think 
me a Christian. My life seemed to tell 
that I was not ; but I have started anew, 
and hope to honor, and not bring reproach 
upon, the name of my Saviour.” 

“It does my heart good to hear you say 
so, Mrs. Ford. Now you will help me yet 
more with the children.” 

“ What else can I do ?” 


MJiS. FORD^S BETTER SELF. 8 /' 

“We have made them our friends; now 
let us try to make them friends of our 
Saviour.” 

“Talk to them about religion, do you 
mean ? Why, that is the minister’s work. 
They would not listen to me ; besides, it 
don’t seem to me that I can do that.” 

“ No ; I don’t ask you to talk to them so 
much as to pray for them. You know that 
our Saviour says, ‘ If two of you shall agree 
on earth as touching anything they shall 
ask, it shall be done for them of my Fa- 
ther which is in heaven.’ Now, cannot 
you and I do as the Saviour teaches, and 
agree to pray each day for the conversion 
of the children ?” 

Mrs. Ford thought in silence for a mo- 
ment, and then said, 

“ Where will you pray ?” 

“Oh, wherever we choose. You may 
pray in your home, and I in mine. Will 
you do it?” 

“I am willing — yes, glad — to pray for 
thern. But don’t ask me to talk to them ; 
that is too hard. No one would be more 
willing than I to do anything for the good 


88 


TOM BARD. 


of the children, but talking about their 
souls seems impossible.” 

“ I do not ask you to do that now, Mrs. 
Ford. But allow me to ask you one ques- 
tion : Has not your own coldness in the 
Christian life perhaps come from neglect- 
ing to talk to any one about the Saviour?” 

“ Perhaps it has. I never thought of 
that.” 

The teacher saw that he had given her 
new thoughts, and went on his way. 
When he had gone Mrs. Ford thought 
'again of his question. 

“I wonder if he is right?” said she to 
herself “ Have I grown to be such a 
cold-hearted Christian because of neglect- 
ing to talk with others about the Saviour? 
No wonder he did not think me a Christian. 
I seldom go to church or to the commu- 
nion. Perhaps it is better that people don’t 
regard me as being a Christian ; they would 
only think the worse of Christianity. It is 
a shame that I have lived in this way for so 
many years. I have, like Peter, denied Christ. 
I have done nothing for Jesus, but just left 
him, as Judas did, to others. Did he then 


MRS. FORD^S BETTER SELF. 89 

leave me ? It does seem so. If there ever 
was a Christian forsaken of Christ for a 
time, I am that one. But he has come 
back. Yes, I know he is my Saviour. 
How badly he has been treated by me, 
and that, too, because I hated others ! 
Have I taken revenge on my Saviour 
for what others have done to me ? It 
seems so. Judas never did that. Am I 
worse than Judas. He made his sin the 
greater by refusing to ask Christ for par- 
don, and by despairing of living a better 
life. I have asked and received forgive- 
ness, and by his grace am trying to live a 
different life. 

“ But did this coolness come through neg- 
lecting to talk of the Saviour? If it did, 
may not the same trouble come again if I 
refuse to tell others of him? Oh, I can’t 
talk of him. I love to think of him, to 
hear others speak of him, but to do it my- 
self — I can’t do that. I love my husband — 
poor dear good man ! — though he has been 
so many years in heaven ; yet I can’t talk 
to others of him. Does the Bible teach 
that we must tell others of the Saviour? 


go 


TOM BARD. 


Let me think. Yes, I remember one thing 
it says : ‘ Then they that feared the Lord 
spake often one to another, and the Lord 
hearkened and heard it, and a book of re- 
membrance was written before him for them 
that feared the Lord and thought upon his 
name.’ When the man who had been made 
well by the Saviour wanted to follow him, 
Jesus told him to go home and tell how 
great things God had done for him — that 

is, Christians should tell their friends what 
the Lord has done for them. I haven’t done 
it ; and I wonder if that was the reason why 
I grew so cold ? I must think more about 

it, and — Yes, duty must be done. 

“ But how did the warmth come back to 
my heart? It commenced when I began 
to forgive the children, and to try to do 
them favors and win their love. Was not 
that owning Christ and speaking for him 
by acts ? It seems to me that it was. 
Talking without doing will not do. I can 
act, and mean to keep on acting, for the 
Saviour, and forgiving too. The people 
have treated me unkindly, but not half so 
badly as I have treated the Lord.” 


A//^S. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 9 1 

Though Mrs. Ford had won her way to 
the hearts of most of the children, some 
-kept aloof and remained, if not enemies, 
yet anything but the friends that Tom 
and Harry were. Among these were Bill 
Snyder and John Warner, who often ac- 
cused the rest of being paid by Mrs. Ford 
to become her friends. 

“I may not always be the best fellow 
around,” said John, sneeringly, to Tom and 
Harry, “ but I never yet got so low that I 
could be bought by Mrs. Ford.” 

“We are not bought,” answered Tom, 
indignantly. “We stand by Mrs. F'ord 
because she is a good woman.” 

“ ‘ Good woman ’ !” sneered John. “Ask 
any man or woman around here, and see 
if they speak well of her. Old people 
know more than youngsters like you. A 
woman whose only friends are bought with 
apples and cakes must need friends badly.” 

“ She does feel the need of friends,” re- 
plied Harry, “ and so would you if you had 
none. I think it speaks well for Mrs. Ford 
if she wants us to like instead of to hate her, 
even though she must win us by favor.” 


92 


TOM BARD. 


“Well, she can’t buy me,” muttered John, 
doggedly. 

“ Don’t you worry,” said Tom, half in 
joke, half in earnest ; “ Mrs. Ford won’t try 
very hard. She doesn’t care to pay such a 
price for the goods she would get.” 

John did not reply ; perhaps he felt that 
it was true, for Mrs. Ford had treated John 
and Bill as though she did not care for their 
friendship. Bill did not mind this, but John 
felt it. He was proud and wished to be 
noticed. To have most of the children 
stop at Mrs. Ford’s and receive now and 
then a nice cake, some fine fruit or other 
dainties, and to see himself never offered 
a share, wounded John’s pride, and he 
retaliated by saying unkind things to Mrs. 
Ford. To his remarks she seldom replied, 
and when she spoke it was kindly, but in 
as few words as possible. 

And, strange to say, by watching her op- 
portunities, Mrs. Ford did contrive to win 
over even her determined enemy. Master 
John Warner. But this was not until she 
had earnestly sought the help of a power 
above her own. 


MRS. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 93 

Bill Snyder could not understand how it 
was that John Warner had become a warm 
friend of Mrs. Ford, nor could the other 
children ; but somehow John was more 
ready than any of the boys to do her a 
favor. More than that, he always spoke 
kindly of her to the children. As John’s 
friendship for Mrs. Ford continued he be- 
came more kind and pleasant to the chil- 
dren, and less a friend of Bill Snyder. 
Yet several of the boys, with Bill, kept 
aloof from Mrs. Ford and did not forget 
her former ill-will to them. Many of the 
parents, too, were slow to see any good 
in Mrs. Ford. They heard the children 
talk kindly of her, but supposed that the * 
liking for her was a mere childish fancy 
because she gave them cakes and good 
things. They saw her at church regularly 
now, and most of them were surprised to 
see her sitting with the members on com- 
munion Sabbath. But none saw her be- 
fore that communion 'Sabbath talking to her 
pastor, as a penitent child, of the sins of 
her past life ; none knew that she wished 
to make a new profession of her faith in 


94 


'J'OM BARh>. 


Christ ; nor did any one know that the 
reason she did not was because the pastor 
said it was not the custom of the church. 
Yet he gladly welcomed her back to the 
fold as a sheep that had wandered far 
away. 

The pastor and the teacher understood 
and respected Mrs. Ford. They always 
had a kind word and a cheering smile for 
her, but others passed her by with a cold 
word or in silence. 

“ Perhaps I deserve it all,” said she one 
day to the minister. “ Perhaps the Lord 
will give me an opportunity some time to 
show that I am not so bad as they think 
me. I will do my duty and wait the Lord’s 
time.” 

She did not wait long. With winter came 
that dreadful disease, scarlet fever, among 
the children. Annie Moore became ill with 
it ; then the scourge reached other homes 
in and around Nortonville. Among others, 
Tom Bard’s brother Jimmy, and after a while 
Tom himself, went down with the fever. The 
people became frightened, and those whose 
homes had not been attacked were afraid to 


M/^S. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 95 

go where the disease was, lest it be carried 
to their own children. Parents whose chil- 
dren were ill had little help in nursing them. 

News reached Mrs. Ford of Tom Bard’s 
illness. Hurriedly she went to the home 
of her favorite, and was surprised to find 
both children so ill and their father and 
mother almost worn out with watching. 
At once Mrs. Ford asked to be allowed 
to help take care of the boys. .Much as 
she needed the help, Mrs. Bard hesitated, 
and accepted the kind offer only after Tom 
had urged Mrs. Ford to stay with him, so 
that his mother might sleep a while. She 
stayed that day, and after going home at 
night to attend to her work came back 
and watched by the sick children. The 
next morning Tom pleaded with her to 
come back again after she had attended 
to duties at home ; and thus for several 
days she watched by Tom and Jimmy. 
Tom was very ill, yet not dangerously 
so, but for some days before Mrs. Ford 
came it was uncertain whether Jimmy 
would live or die. With true motherly 
care she nursed the little fellow and Tom, 


96 


rOM BARD. 


hardly taking time to sleep until Jimmy 
began to improve. 

While they were fighting the fever in 
Tom Bard’s home, the disease was mak- 
ing sad havoc in the homes of others. 
Annie Moore died ; then Bennie’s little 
baby-brother followed her. Lucy Abbot’s 
funeral came soon after, and was followed 
by that of Charlie Brown. 

After Mrs. Ford had for some days 
watched by Jimmy and Tom, the doctor 
came in one morning and said, 

“ Mrs. Ford, I think that we must have 
you divide your nursing. Jimmy will get 
well, and I do not think that Tom will be 
any worse ; so, as Mrs. Bard has had your 
help, I hope she will spare you at least part 
of the time. Unless there is more and bet- 
ter care, I am afraid we shall lose others of 
our little ones. You seem to know just 
what to do. Little Jimmy owes his life 
more to your care than to my medicine. 
I want you to help me save others.” 

Mrs. Bard would gladly have kept Mrs. 
Ford longer. She had been strangely drawn 
toward the lone woman, and now, instead of 


MRS. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 9 / 

looking on her with suspicion, regarded her 
as one of the noblest beings she had ever 
met. Her patient, tender care for the little 
sufferers seemed greater than even that 
of their own mother. Mrs. Bard did not 
know that the mother’s heart in Mrs. 
Ford had hungered for children’s love, 
and that now, with children who loved 
her, the famine in her soul was ended, 
the longings were satisfied. With Tom 
and Jimmy, even though they needed con- 
stant care, she was happy. Nothing was 
too much to do for them. None knew 
how much it cost her to say quietly to 
the doctor, 

“ If I can do more good elsewhere, and 
Mrs. Bard is willing, I am ready to go.” 

Tom and Jimmy consented to let her 
go only upon her promising to come up 
at least twice a day, and to stay with them 
all night sometimes if needed. 

None hesitated to accept Mrs. Ford’s 
services. The doctor had said so much 
about her nursing that each suffering fam- 
ily was anxious to have her with them. 
When Mr. Snyder, Bill’s father, heard 

7 


98 


TOM BARD. 


about Mrs. Ford, he went to see her and 
offered her two dollars a day if she would 
come to his house to nurse his wife and 
Bill. 

“ Mr. Snyder,” said Mrs. Ford, “ if you 
feel like paying so much, you can no doubt 
hire others who will care for Mrs. Snyder 
and your son as well as I. I would willing- 
ly do all I could, but just now it seems my 
duty to take care of those who cannot 
pay.” 

An offer of more money only brought 
the reply from Mrs. Ford that she did 
not need money, she did not wish pay. 
If she could help those in need, it was all 
she cared to do. 

Instead of staying with one family until 
the sick were recovered, Mrs. Ford went 
where most needed. Everywhere her vis- 
its were eagerly looked for. The children 
were glad to have her by their bedside, and 
the parents were no less comforted by her 
presence and helped by her advice. She 
seemed to know just what was needed and 
how to supply the need. 

“You have seen scarlet fever before, 


MRS. FORD'S BETTER SELF. 99 

have you not was asked again and 
again by those whom . she advised and 
helped. Her quiet answer, “Yes, I have, 
many years ago, before I came to this 
place,” did not tell how the fever had 
robbed her own home and heart of its 
treasures, nor how through disappointment 
and sorrow her nature had become sour 
and sad. Everywhere she was the same 
patient, motherly nurse. 

But in their anxiety for their own none 
saw that the good woman was wasting 
away. When she went to her home to 
attend to duties there, she sometimes 
threw herself down on the bed for an 
hour’s sleep, and in some instances slept 
for a short time in a chair ; but she sel- 
dom got even half a night of rest whilst 
the destroyer continued its work. 

At length the fever began to disappear. 
Most of the children recovered, but several 
homes had been robbed by the disease. In 
some there were two, and even three, va- 
cant chairs; and when school again opened, 
there were some empty seats. The deaths 
had been of children only, except that of 


lOO 


TOM BARD. 


Mrs. Snyder. Bill recovered, but to find 
himself motherless. 

As most of the sick were improving, 
the parents began to think of Mrs. Ford’s 
health. They realized now that she had 
hardly taken time for rest, and that she 
had been slowly wasting away from fa- 
tigue and care. They urged her to take 
more rest, but when they thought her 
asleep at home she was in some other 
sick-room watching by one not yet out 
of danger. She seemed to forget her 
own growing weakness, and thought only 
of relieving the sufferings of others. All 
now loved her as a mother and sister, but 
they waited too long to show how much 
they valued her. 

One morning, after watching by the sick 
all night, she stopped in to see Tom and 
Jimmy, now almost well, before going 
home. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Ford,” said Tom, ** you’re 
sick. You must go to bed. You’re as 
white as a sheet, and you have grown so 
thin that soon we won’t know you. Don’t 
you get sick.” 


MRS. FORD^S BETTER SELF. 


lOI 


“ I am very tired,” said she, and mean 
to go home now for a good long rest. All 
seem to be getting better, and they will not 
need me much more. I came in to say 
‘ Good-bye,’ for I shall not come back very 
soon again and she bent over the boys 
to kiss them good-bye. 

Mrs. Bard urged her to lie down there 
and stay for a few days with them to rest, 
promising that Mr. Bard would see to her 
cow and the poultry. 

“ No,” said Mrs. F'ord ; “ I can rest better 
at home. I want to be entirely quiet.” 

That afternoon some one going along a 
path that formed a short cut to Mrs. Ford’s 
house from Nortonville found the good wo- 
man lying faint and sick beside the path near 
her home. The man carried her to her house 
and hastened away for help. Friends soon 
came, and not long after the doctor arrived. 
He examined her carefully and shook his 
head. 

“ It is too late,” said he ; “ she is worn 
out. The clock is run down, and the 
frame is not strong enough to bear wind- 
ing up.” 


102 


TOM BARD. 


Faint and exhausted, she lay wkh her 
eyes closed, quietly breathing out the 
remnants of life. Worn out by watch- 
ing and by anxiety for the sick, her 
strength had given way entirely before 
she reached her home and she had fainted. 
While lying exhausted on the ground the 
cold air of winter had chilled her through 
and through. 

Friends gathered around, ready to do 
anything for her, but it was too late. She 
lingered, almost unconscious, until the sun 
was going down. Then her mind came 
back. Opening her eyes, she looked at 
the tearful face of one and another stand- 
ing by her bed, as if trying to recall the 
past; then, glancing around the room, as 
if to make sure that she was in her own 
home, she spoke softly, as though to her- 
self: 

“Are they here in my house ? Why did 
they come ? I thought they all hated me. 
Yes, they are here, and weeping over me.” 
Again she seemed trying to recall the past ; 
then a bright smile came over her face as 
she continued: “Yes, it is all right now. 


M/iS. FORD'S BETTER SELF. IO3 

They no longer hate me. They know that 
I wanted to love them. Yes, I have proved 
that I did not hate them in my heart. But 
it was hard to live alone, alone, alone ! 
Yes, even Jesus seemed to have left me. 
He has come back now, never to leave 
me again — never, never, never !” 

For a moment her eyes closed and her 
lips did not move ; but as the bright rays 
of the setting sun shone on her face 
through the window, she opened her eyes 
again and whispered so low that only those 
near could understand: “The day has been 
dark and cold — oh, so chilly and cold ! — 
but my sun is going down bright and clear, 
and — ” Then her eyes opened wide, as 
though she saw something startling: “Yes, 
delightful — oh how glorious ! Is this heav- 
en ? No, not yet. It is not far off. I will 
rest first and her eyes closed. She was 
sleeping, but it was that sleep from which 
the sleeper awakes in heaven. 

Mrs. Ford’s troubled life had ended, as 
the day, in a Jlood of light and glory. 


CHAPTER V. 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 


-•TER the death of Mrs. Ford, and 



when the scarlet fever was disap- 
pearing, the school, which had been closed 
during the height of the disease, was again 
opened. Many scholars were missing ; 
some were too weak yet to attend, and 
some had gone where school-days are not 
known. The death of their companions had 
left a deep impression on the minds of the 
children. The usual noise and the more 
boisterous sports of the scholars were un- 
heeded. Quietly they came and went ; and 
at recess and noon most of them preferred 
sitting in the school-room to playing outside. 
Gradually, however, this feeling passed off, 
yet did not entirely leave the school. In 
the minds of not a few there was a deeper 
feeling as they thought of their dead com- 
panions. 


104 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. I05 

“Supposing it had been you or I,” said 
Tom to Harry, “ instead of Charlie Brown 
or Lucy Abbot ; where would we be to- 
day ?’' 

“I don’t like to think about it, Tom,” 
replied Harry, with a sigh. “I am not 
ready to go. I believe Lucy was, and I 
hope Charlie too was ready ; he was dif- 
ferent from the rest of us boys, and Lucy 
was always good.” 

“ I tell you, Harry,” said Tom, “ it makes 
a fellow feel serious when death comes so 
near. Wish I was better. Didn’t I wish 
it, though, when I was sick ! — that is, when 
I didn’t feel too bad to think of anything 
but the pain and suffering.” 

“I was not so sick as you,” replied 
Harry; “I had only a touch of the fever, 
so did not feel very bad about it; yet I 
have often wished I was better.” 

“Well,” added Tom, “I have not only 
wished it, but I mean to try to be better. 
Say, Harry, let us try together. I’ve be- 
gun, any way.” 

“ How did you begin ?” asked Harry. 
“What are you doing?” 


io6 


rOM BARD. 


“ I read my Bible every day and pray 
nights and mornings.” 

“ Is that all ?” said Harry. “ I’ve done 
that for years.” 

“No; I do more. I used to read the 
Bible and say the Lord’s Prayer too, but 
because I must; now I do it because I 
want to be better. I am trying to be 
better, too. I don’t get angry, as I used 
to ; I don’t mean to fight any more ; I 
haven’t said a bad word but once since 
I was sick.” 

“ Don’t you find it hard to give up every- 
thing bad ?” asked Harry. “ Do you give 
up all kinds of fun too, Tom ?” 

“I don’t feel like fun much; it isn’t so 
hard to give up as it was at first.” 

“ I too have been trying for a good while 
to do better, Tom,” said Harry. “ Some- 
how, I don’t gain much.” 

“Let’s help each other,” replied Tom. 
“I am glad you have started too.” 

“How can we help? We have to do it 
for ourselves. We can tell how we get 
along, I suppose. Well, I don’t feel so sure 
I can be much better,” added Harry. 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 10 / 

“I know I can be better,” said Tom. 
“I’ve gained a good deal already.” 

There was a change for the better in 
Tom. He was more quiet, and the mis- 
chief seemed to have gone out of his na- 
ture. But the better did not seem to be 
in him ; it appeared rather to be outside, 
only he was not natural — was not like Tom 
Bard made better, but like something put 
on over Tom Bard. This covering after a 
while wore thin ; the real Tom could be 
seen through it. For some time he read 
his Bible regularly morning and night 
and continued praying, but gradually he 
chose shorter chapters ; his prayers too 
grew shorter, and became a repetition in 
the same words of the things he had asked 
for often before ; but now he did it as 
though repeating something and not pray- 
ing. Tom did not seem to notice the grad- 
ual change in his reading and prayers ; he 
even thought he was becoming very good. 
For some time, instead of reading for mere 
pleasure, he had read serious books, and 
among others stories of good children. 
From these latter, somehow, he got the 


io8 


TOM BARD. 


idea that all good children died young. 
This alarmed him, and he began to won- 
der if he were not running some risk by 
being a little too good. He even felt sat- 
isfied when he saw some signs of his old 
nature rising. His dread of death was as 
great as ever, and to him a very good boy 
meant a boy who was soon to die. Talk- 
ing to Harry one day, he said, 

“ Harry, I’m afraid about being too good. 
Good folks don’t live long; I want to live.” 

“ ‘ Don’t live long ’ !” repeated Harry. 
“Your father and mother are good, so 
are mine : they live. The other good 
people around live and grow old, as well 
as the bad.” 

“Well, grown people may, but I believe 
children who are too good don’t live long ; 
it don’t seem to be healthy for a boy to be 
good.” 

“ I don’t see why. The Bible says, ‘ The 
wicked shall not live out half his days.’ ” 

“That means grown people,” said Tom. 
“ I can tell you, good children do die young. 
There was Lucy Abbot ; she was good ; 
Charlie Brown, too, was better than the 


TRY:ING TO BE GOOD. IO9 

most of US boys: they are dead. Hard 
fellows like Bill Snyder, John Warner, 
Bennie Moore, you and I — we live.” 

“Yes, and so do good ones too. Nellie 
Harris is as good as Lucy Abbot was, and 
Jim Brown is as good as his brother Char- 
lie was ; he lives, and was hardly sick at 
all. Jim Hull is as good as any.” 

“Well, the books about boys and girls 
who were good say they died young.” 

“Yes, but there are lots of books that 
tell of good people who died old. Gen- 
erally, folks wait until good people die to 
tell about them. Once in a while good boys 
or good girls die ; then, if they were very 
good, somebody writes a book about them, 
and tells all about them. Nobody writes a 
book about those who grow up ; couldn’t 
say the last thing about them, you see. 
Bad children die, just as well as good ; no 
books are written about those. People 
don’t want to talk or think of bad people 
who are dead. 

“ I tell you, Tom,” said Harry, confiden- 
tially : “ don’t be angry, but I don’t believe 
your goodness is going to kill you yet. 


no TOM BAJ^D. 

I don’t believe any of us around Norton- 
ville have enough goodness to make us 
very unhealthy. It is more unhealthy to 
be bad than it is to be good; that is my 
opinion.” 

“ Maybe it is,” said Tom, who did not 
quite like the way in which Harry referred 
to his own goodness. 

A day or two after, Tom spoke to his 
mother about the same thing. They had 
of late had more -than one talk about be- 
ing good, but Tom, somehow, did not seem 
to understand his mother’s advice. He 
thought he could become better of him- 
self ; all he needed to do was to try hard 
and to pray and to read his Bible. 

“ Mother,” said he, “ is it true that good 
children die young?” 

“ Some of them do, my boy,” she replied, 
“just as some bad children die young.” 

“But I’ve been reading many books of 
late about good children, and each one 
dies before I get to the end of the story ; 
and — Well, I’ll tell you the truth: I am 
afraid to be too good. I don’t want to die 
yet.” 


TR YING TO BE GOOD. 


Ill 


“ There isn’t much danger, Tommy,” said 
his mother, laughing. “ I don’t see any sign 
of your goodness even making you sick.” 

“ But, mother, why is it that so many 
books tell of good children who died, and 
none of any who lived?” 

“None, Tommy?” exclaimed his mother, 
in surprise. “ I remember reading a great 
many books about good children who lived 
to grow old.” 

“Well, I don’t remember any,” said he, 
rather despondingly. 

“ Let me tell you of one : it is a true 
book, too. You have heard of Moses, 
have you not, and Isaac, and Joseph, and 
Samuel, and David, and Josiah, and Tim- 
othy ? They were good children, but, ex- 
cepting Josiah, who died when he was thir- 
ty-nine, the others lived to be old men.” 

“ That is so,” said Tom ; “ I never thought 
of that.” 

“ But, Tom,” continued his mother, “I am 
afraid you are not gaining, and not taking 
the right way to be good, either.” 

“Why do you think so, mother? I 
thought I was getting to be quite good.” 


1 12 


TOM BARD. 


“ Do you read your Bible arid pray every 
night and morning, as you did at first ?’' 

“ Yes, mother ; I try to.” 

“What part of the Bible do you read 
most ?” 

“ Of late I’ve read the Psalms and the 
Epistles more than any other part. Those 
are good, are they not?” 

“ Do you read them because they are 
good. Tommy, or because the Psalms and 
the Epistles have the shortest chapters ?” 

“ I believe it is because they are short,” 
said Tom, hanging his head. 

“ Have not your prayers too been short- 
er, Tom?” 

“How do you know that, mother?” he 
asked. 

“I do not know; I only asked the ques- 
tion.” 

“ I am afraid they have been shorter. I 
have been hurried often in the morning, 
and am so sleepy at night that I cannot 
take much time to read and pray.” 

“ People who are really in earnest, 
Tom,” said she, “ will find time to read the 
Bible, and time for prayer too. Let me 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. II3 

tell you again that I am afraid you wish 
to be better only outwardly. Unless your 
heart is changed by the Holy Spirit, you 
will not be better permanently. I already 
see a change in you for the worse. You 
too will see it some day, unless Satan blinds 
your eyes.” 

“ Mother,” said Tom, ** I mean to start 
anew. I will be good ; I will read my 
Bible and pray more.” 

“ That will not do it, my boy. Jesus 
Christ must do the work ; you must give 
yourself to him.” 

Tom determined to begin that night to 
read two chapters, and resolved to read the 
same number each night and morning; and, 
to prevent his choosing the short ones, he 
read in course one chapter, beginning with 
Genesis, In the Old Testament, and another, 
beginning with Matthew, in the New. He 
prayed more earnestly, too ; but in all, per- 
haps hidden from himself, there was a feel- 
ing that he could make himself better. He 
trusted in Tom Bard, not in the Saviour. 
No wonder that he failed. Yet his prayers 
were not unanswered, though God took a 


114 


TOM BAKD. 


different way from what Tom expected. 
He first let Tom see in what a weak 
being he was trusting. 

The next morning Tom started for school 
well satisfied with himself — he had read 
his two chapters and had offered an un- 
usually long prayer — but he came home 
at night with a very different feeling. Be- 
tween him and Bill Snyder there had arisen 
trouble that would have ended in a fight 
had not it been for Harry Meyer, who 
coaxed Tom away. 

“ There is no use trying to be good,” said 
Tom as he sat down in his room before go- 
ing to bed that night. “ I started off this 
morning feeling first rate and able to whip 
the world ; I came back to-night feeling that 
everything in the world has whipped me. I 
was ready this morning to crow over every- 
thing ; to-night there is not a crow left in me. 
I have been angry at Bill Snyder, used hard 
words, would have fought him and done any- 
thing else that came in the way. Good kind 
of a fellow you are, Tom Bard ! No danger 
of your dying from over-goodness ! Haven’t 
got enough goodness to last you through an 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 


15 


ordinary shower, let alone the darkness 
of a single night. You did get along well 
for a while,” continued he, in a more cheer- 
ful voice, after a pause; “are you going to 
give up because you are whipped once ? 
That isn’t the way you are used to doing, 
Tom Bard. Buckle up and go in again,- 
old fellow. You can’t jump into goodness 
all at once ; you’ve got to fight for it — not 
by fighting Bill Snyder, though,” said he, 
in a lower voice. “ Mr. Wyckoff says that 
it is not failures, but what people do after 
they have failed, that shows of what stuff 
they are made. Just show Satan of what 
stuff you are made.” 

Tom’s prayer that night was longer than 
usual. He confessed his sins and promised 
the Lord to do better, but prayed as if he 
wanted it understood that Tom Bard was 
the one who meant to do better. For a 
few days he succeeded, but there was not 
enough strength in Tom Bard. Nor is 
there enough in any other human being 
to conquer all the temptations in the heart 
and in the world, with strength enough 
left to overcome Satan besides. 


TOM BARD. 


1 16 

The good in Tom Bard melted like a 
snow-man in the spring sunshine. It would 
sink away faster than he could build. Some- 
times he became discouraged and was ready 
to give up, and again his thoughts were so 
taken up by other things that he almost for- 
got his efforts to be better. One cause after 
another made him shorten his tv/o chapters 
to a few verses, and his prayers to a sen- 
tence or two added to the Lord’s Prayer. 
His doing well ended in a miserable failure. 
The covering that he had put on wore out, 
fell off and left Tom Bard the same impul- 
sive fellow, full of all kinds of mischief, and 
not free from that which was worse than mis- 
chief. His father and mother saw with sad- 
ness the change for the worse in their boy, 
and thought him more careless than ever ; 
yet deep down in his heart remained long- 
ings to be better — longings that would not 
cease. God had not given Tom Bard 
over to himself 

^ After times of unusual wildness he often 
lay awake for hours at night weeping over 
the sins of the day. Sometimes he would 
get up, would kneel by his bed, and in 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 11 / 

words broken by sobs would beg God to 
forgive him and help him to live a better 
life ; yet with morning his serious thoughts 
sank down into his heart again. Some- 
times during the day they would rise for 
a moment, but the impulsive boy put them 
away, only to have them return at night, 
and then occasionally with such force that 
he dared not sleep lest he be lost before 
morning. He feared to tell his parents, 
nor did he speak of these feelings to his 
best friend, Harry Meyer. The efforts to 
be better had proved such failures that he 
was ashamed to talk at all about his soul. 
At times during family worship in the even- 
ing, when his father and mother supposed 
him to be especially thoughtless, Tom was 
weeping; he was always careful, however, 
to hide his tears when he rose from his 
knees. 

Once, after an unusually troublesome 
day, in which he had been severely re- 
buked by the teacher, Tom hastened off 
to bed before family worship. 

“Are you sick ?” asked his mother. 

“ No, ma’am,” replied he. 


Il8 TOM BARD. 

“ Then why do you not wait until after we 
have worship ?” 

“ I don’t want to,” was his answer as he 
hurried off to bed. 

He slept above what they called the liv- 
ing-room, and the hot air from the stove be- 
low, coming through the pipe in the floor, 
warmed his room in winter. Tom, feeling 
too bad to sleep, had been in bed but a 
short time when his father, in the room 
below, began reading the Bible. Tom lay 
still for a few moments listening, the tears 
dropping on his pillow ; then, leaving his 
bed, he kneeled by the stovepipe with his 
ear close to the floor, that he might hear 
every word. When his father prayed for 
his erring boy, Tom was forced to check 
his sobs lest they should be heard. After 
worship was over he crept softly back to 
bed. 

“ Father and mother don’t seem so anx- 
ious about Jimmy as they do about me,” 
said he. “I wish I was as young and good 
as he is ; then I would start anew and be 
better. It is ' too late now ; I am too 
bad.” 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 


II9 

“Tom,” asked Harry one day as they 
were coming from school, “ have you en- 
tirely given up trying to live better?” 

“I have stopped,” replied he, “but I 
haven’t given up. I couldn’t get along 
alone. ’Twas just as mother said: I 
needed more help.” 

“Why don’t you get the help?” asked 
Harry. 

“ I do pray for it once in a while, and then 
I forget,” replied Tom. “ I don’t keep at it ; 
that is the trouble. How is it with you, 
Harry?” 

“ Oh, I am doing pretty well — not so well 
as I would like, but I am getting along.” 

“ See here, Harry : what do you do when 
things go wrong ?” 

“ Do ? Why, just try to do all the better 
after that, to make up.” 

“That’s the way I tried, but couldn’t 
make up; I’d be running the account 
larger all the while. Now it’s got so 
awful big that I hardly dare look at, or 
even think of, it any more. But then you 
are not like me, full of hooks to catch fast 
to everything that comes along. I believe 


120 


TOM BARD. 


I am the worst boy that ever lived. I doubt 
whether a temptation could get past me with- 
out catching fast if it tried.” 

“ Don’t you give yourself a great deal of 
trouble about it, Tom ? What’s the use 
worrying ? If a fellow can’t do exactly 
right, God will be easy. He won’t ex- 
pect what we can’t do. If I can’t do as 
well as I would like to in one thing, I try 
to do all the better in another, to make 
. up.” 

“ Harry, that don’t seem the way ; we 
are obliged to do right always. How, 
then, can you make anything that we are 
obliged to do pay for what you miss ? Put 
it this way: Supposing you owe Mr. Row- 
land, and then buy something more, paying 
cash down ; would you ask him to let that 
money settle the old debt too, if there was 
just enough to pay for what you bought ? 
If you did, would he do it ?” 

“No; of course not.” 

“ I don’t believe God would, either. But 
my trouble isn’t so much with my sins : the 
trouble is to keep from committing more. 
If I could only do that, all would be right.” 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 


I2I 


This was one of Tom’s troubles. Impul- 
sive, he rushed into anything thoughtlessly, 
to repent of it bitterly afterward. 

One night, after one his days of trouble, 
he sat thinking how often he had failed, and 
began, after his custom, to talk to himself, 
as though he was composed of two boys ; 

“Well, Tom Bard, you are not getting 
better very fast. You’ve been very sick. 
Others were sick around you, and died ; 
you were afraid to die. You promised the 
Lord to live a different life if he would re- 
store you. You started, but how far have 
you got? — Not far. — You haven’t got out 
of sight of the station yet. You do more 
switching off and backing up than going 
ahead. You’ve read the Bible, you’ve 
prayed, you’ve done everything you could, 
and here you are about where you started. 
Not so sure of that, either; I’m afraid 
you’ve got some distance back from 
where you started. Are you the same 
fellow that thought, a few weeks ago, he 
was getting good too fast? You thought 
yourself running into heaven right along — 
track clear, road straight and down grade; 


122 


TOM BARD. 


had to put on the brakes to keep from run- 
ning into heaven too soon.” 

A new railroad had been built through 
Nortonville not long before, and Tom was 
quite familiar with railroad phrases. 

“You did put on the brakes. Perhaps 
it was well that you did, for I believe you 
were on the wrong track. The road to 
heaven is an up-grade ; the only brake 
needed on that is to keep from going 
backward. To get up that grade the 
locomotive has got to be puffing all the 
while, I tell you. You didn’t puff much, 
Tom ; and, what is more, you didn’t go 
ahead one bit. I believe you were asleep 
and dreamed you were getting better. 
Now here you are just where you started 
— that is, if you haven’t gone back any. 
You mean to reach heaven ; you want to 
be better; you’ve done all you could, and 
failed; now what? Something is wrong, 
Tom. You haven’t switched on the right 
track ; that is certain. You thought you 
knew everything and could do anything, 
and here you are able to do nothing ; and 
that is all you know, too. Now, if you 


TRYING TO BE GOOD. 


123 


are to be saved, something more must be 
done. Tom Bard may be a good fighter 
and able to whip any boy of his size, but 
he can’t whip the whole world, and then, 
when he has done all that, just scare the 
devil out of the way. That is too much 
of a job for a thousand boys to under- 
take ; so you might as well give up, first 
as last, trying to do it yourself. Only 
one can do this work for you, Tom ; you 
know who that is, or you ought to know. 
Do you mean to let Him do it? — I sup- 
pose there is no other way. — Well, then, 
why don’t you take that? — I mean to, but 
don’t feel just like it now. One thing I 
mean to do : that is keep on reading the 
Bible and praying night and morning. — 
But, Tom, this putting off is risky busi- 
ness. You have only one soul ; you can’t 
afford to risk it. — I don’t mean to put it 
off ; I mean to think the thing over fairly 
and then start right once for all.” 

With this resolution Tom took up his 
Bible and read’ his two chapters, prayed 
and went to bed. 

The next morning came news of the 


124 


TOM BARD. 


firine on the Star of the West in Charles- 
ton Harbor. All was excitement in the 
village and in the school ; this for the 
time took most of Tom’s thoughts. But 
we leave the rest for. the next chapter. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE WAR. 



HERE was great excitement in Nor- 


X tonville at the news of the firing on 
the Star of the West by some of the people 
of South Carolina. The capture of Fort 
Sumter, soon after, raised this excite- 
ment to fever-heat; but when the call 
came for seventy-five thousand voliui* 
teers, every one was wild with excite- 
ment. Scarcely anything but war was 
the talk of the village. Some spoke 
bravely of what the North would do, 
and urged others to enlist at once, not 
forgetting to say that they would not 
hesitate to go were it not that duty com- 
pelled them to stay at home, or that some 
hidden disease unfitted them for a soldier’s 
life. The patriotism of the people took dif- 
ferent ways of showing itself, though rarely 
did it turn toward entering the armv. There 


125 


126 


TOM BARD. 


were a few who said little about the war, but 
that little showed that they were thinking 
very seriously whether or not it was their 
duty to become soldiers. Of this number 
was Tom’s father. 

Some of the younger men in Nortonville, 
feeling that they ought to do something, 
proposed the formation of a company of 
home-guards. Why home-gua7'ds were 
needed just at this time they probably 
could not have told. Nortonville was 
too far north to make it at all likely that 
the Southern army would ever attack the 
village. However, the home-guards were 
formed, and the company was quickly filled 
by men who lived in and near Nortonville. 

The boys soon caught the war spirit and 
formed a company too, and called it the 
“ Nortonville Rangers.” Perhaps it should 
have been called infantry, for hardly any 
boy was too small to join it if he could 
carry a wooden gun and march with the 
rest. With paper caps, wooden guns and 
swords, an American flag made of cam- 
bric muslin by the girls, a drum and a fife, 
the boys imagined themselves soldiers. 



The Nortonville Rangers. 


Page 126. 



r 


THE IVAE. 


127 


Bennie Moore was chosen captain, Tom 
Bard first lieutenant and Harry Meyer sec- 
ond lieutenant. Bennie did not care so 
much for military honors as he cared for 
noise ; so he resigned the office of captain 
to become the drummer. He was, as he 
regarded it, promoted to the position of 
drum-major; he was drum-minor, too, for 
that matter, as there was only one drum. 
Tom now”^ became captain and Harry first 
lieutenant, the second lieutenant’s position 
being left vacant until, as the boys said, 
some one should prove himself fit for the 
office. Early each morning the lads gath- 
ered in the armory, as they called the school 
wood-house, where their guns, swords, caps 
and flag were kept. Ball-playing, tag and 
all other games were given up for the more 
important business of “ training.” 

When Tom took command he knew very 
little of drilling soldiers, except that he had 
seen in the home-guards; but, as none of the 
boys knew more, he succeeded very well 
as captain, and soon had his men, as he 
called them, drilled to the fullest extent 
of his knowledge. His “Forward, march!” 


128 


TOM BARD. 


“ Double quick !” “ Halt !” “ Single file !” 
“Double file!” “Right wheel!” “Left 
wheel !” and the few other orders known 
by him, were obeyed by the little soldiers 
as precisely as if they had been veterans. 

The boys went into the work with all 
their hearts, and were as faithful to their 
captain as he could wish. All but Bill 
Snyder and three or four others of the 
larger boys belonged to the company. 
These “rebels,” as they were named by 
the young soldiers, took delight in ridi- 
culing the drilling and in otherwise annoy- 
ing the company. The smaller boys tried 
to be patient and seldom retaliated, nor 
did they often say anything in reply; but 
at last the good nature of Tom and the 
rest was exhausted, and they waited only 
for an opportunity to pay off Bill and his 
friends for the many annoyances suffered. 
This opportunity came. 

One afternoon, on the way from school. 
Bill told a small boy that he would get 
ahead of Tom Bard the next day, and 
gave a hint of what he meant to do. 
Tom was told of this, and, divining Bill’s 


THE WAR. 


129 


plan, started very early next morning, with 
Harry Meyer and a few others, for school. 
When the Rangers came from their armory 
Bill and two other of his special friends, 
with broomsticks for guns, pretended to 
march along-side of them. In the top of 
these sticks Bill and his friends had fasten- 
ed pins with the points out. While the 
company was marching, these three larger 
boys amused themselves by pricking the 
legs of the young soldiers. Tom pretend- 
ed not to notice this, yet was quietly watch- 
ing every movement. 

After quite a number of the smaller boys 
had cried out with pain, and the larger ones 
of the company were looking anxiously to 
Tom, he suddenly gave orders : 

“ Halt ! Front face ! Right flank ! 
Wheel ! Charge bayonets !” 

The larger boys, who were nearest Tom, 
knew his meaning, and before the three 
tormentors could escape, or even under- 
stand what was coming, they were sur- 
rounded by twenty boys and felt the sharp 
points of their pin- tipped bayonets as the 
young soldiers charged upon them. 

9 


130 


TOM BARD. 


Bill screamed with pain and terror. He 
saw that they meant to pay him back for 
all that they had suffered. He was not 
bold enough to fight when the chances 
were even, but now, with only two to help 
him against a whole company of boys, 
most of them anxious to pay off old 
scores, he knew that the only way to es- 
cape severe punishment would be to beg 
for mercy. The other two, by a sudden 
rush, managed to force their way through 
the crowd, though not without more than 
one thrust of the pin-pointed bayonets. 
Bill was too much terrified to escape ; be- 
sides, the boys, caring little for the others, 
kept him prisoner. When the smaller boys 
saw the helplessness of their old tormentor, 
they took the pointed bayonets from the 
older ones and gave Bill many a sly thrust. 
The poor fellow was really hurt, and he 
begged piteously for mercy. Tom with 
difficulty persuaded the boys to stop. 
Each one was determined to give Bill at 
least one thrust. 

When the captain had restored order 
among the young soldiers, Tom, trying 


THE WAE. 


I3I 

to put on all the dignity of a real com- 
mander, spoke to Bill, who was yet sob- 
bing with pain, shame, fright and anger: 

“William Snyder, you are our prisoner. 
You began the battle, and you have been 
defeated. You are our prisoner of war. — 
Now, what shall we do with him boys ?” 
asked Tom, turning to his soldiers. 

“Punch him again,’' shouted Fred De 
Hart. “Pay him off for what he will do 
when he gets a chance.” 

“No; let’s make him promise to let us 
alone,” said Harry Meyer. 

“Yes, that’s it,” called out several. 

“Supposing he won’t promise,” said a 
small boy, “ what then ?” 

“We’ll punch him till he does promise,” 
answered Fred De Hart, making a motion 
as if to give Bill another thrust. 

“ Don’t, Fred,” said Tom. — “ Boys, I think 
Lieutenant Meyer is right. We’ll make 
the prisoner promise to obey the laws 
and then let him go.” Then, turning to 
Bill, he asked, “ Prisoner, will you promise 
to be peaceable and not trouble us any 
more if we let you go ?” 


132 


TOM BARD. 


Bill was silent for a moment, and Fred 
De Hart suggested, 

“ His tongue has got stuck fast. Let us 
loosen it.” 

“All right,” replied Bennie Moore ; “ may- 
be we can pull it loose from the roots with 
the bayonets.” 

“Tom, don’t let those fellows hurt me 
any more,” pleaded Bill. 

“I won’t,” he replied, “if you’ll promise 
to let us alone after this. But, Bill, if you 
don’t, you’ll — ” 

“If I let you fellows alone, will you all 
let me alone?” asked Bill. 

“Yes; not one of us will hurt you un- 
less you begin,” replied Tom. 

“Well, then, I promise; so let me go,” 
said Bill. 

“ All right. — Boys, let him go,” Tom or- 
dered ; and Bill, rubbing the sore places, 
walked away. 

A few weeks after the President’s call 
for seventy-five thousand men a public 
meeting was held, and the duty of enter- 
ing upon the service of the country by en- 
listing in the army was pressed home upon 


THE WAR. 


133 


the men of Nortonville. Many of them 
spoke regretfully of some disability that 
made it out of the question for them to 
enlist ; not a few others were thankful 
that they had already enlisted in the 
home-guards. 

Mr. Bard was among the few who offered 
no excuse. He was very quiet that after- 
noon. He was not a great talker. If duty 
seemed to call him to a certain work, he 
took time to think about it ; and when he 
had decided, he at once obeyed^ the call of 
duty without saying much. 

Mr. Bard at the breakfast- table the next 
day said to his wife, 

“ Mary, so few are going to the war from 
here that I feel it my duty to enlist. I will 
do it this afternoon. Tom need not go to 
school to-day ; he may go with me over to 
town.” 

Mrs. Bard was not surprised at her hus- 
band’s decision, though it gave her great 
sorrow. They had talked the matter over 
several times before. When he saw the 
tears roll down her cheeks, he said, ten- 
derly, 


134 


TOM BARD, 


It will be for only three months, Mary, 
and then I will be back again ; three months 
will soon pass.” 

“But what if you should not come back 
at all ?” she said. 

“ Some must die in this war, I suppose,” 
he replied; “and if it is my duty to go, I 
must take my chance with the rest. God 
will take care of you.” 

Tom went with his father over to town — 
a number of miles away — and saw a part 
of the regiment in which his father in- 
tended to enlist. The sight of the sol- 
diers in their neat uniforms roused Tom’s 
military spirit, and he was proud to think 
that soon his father would be a soldier. 

That afternoon Mr. Bard enlisted, but, as 
the regiment did not expect orders to start 
for the seat of war for a few days, he came 
home for a day. Tom thought his father a 
very fine soldier, and wished himself old 
enough to go with him. Orders came the 
last of the week for the regiment to start 
on the next Monday morning. Early that 
morning Mrs. Bard, taking her two boys, 
rode with a friend over to the large town 


THE WAR. 


135 


to see her husband again before he left 
her. . Many of the Nortonville people 
went to see the soldiers start, as others 
besides Mr. Bard had enlisted from the 
village. 

An immense crowd had gathered on the 
camp-ground. The soldiers were already 
in line. They were a fine body of men, 
more than a thousand in number, and to 
Tom’s eye they seemed an army large 
enough to conquer the whole South. His 
heart longed for a soldier’s life ; but when 
he thought that his own father was going 
to war, and perhaps to die, he could not 
keep back the tears. 

While the soldiers were waiting, men 
came along the line with baskets of New 
Testaments, and each man received a copy. 
Then one of the citizens of the town made 
an address, to which the volunteers replied 
with loud cheers. Next the oath was ad- 
ministered, and every soldier, holding his 
Testament in his hand, pressed it to his 
lips as he vowed to do his duty, and, if 
necessary, to die for his country. After 
the oath-taking the chaplain offered a 


136 


TOM BARD. 


prayer, to which thousands of earnest 
“Amens ” were echoed. 

A few moments were given at the close 
of the prayer for the soldiers to say “Good- 
bye ” to their friends. But soon the colo- 
nel’s loud voice was heard issuing com- 
mands, and the regiment was off for the 
war. 

With tearful eyes Tom saw his father 
passing out of sight and heard his last 
words : 

“ Only three months, Mary, and I’ll 
be home. — Be a man. Tommy, till I come 
back.” 

A day or two after the soldiers had gone 
the Norton ville people began to look for 
letters from their friends long before mail- 
time. Tom was at the post-office, hoping 
and waiting for a letter from his father. 
The daily papers told of the safe arrival 
of the regiment at Washington. Days 
came and went, yet no other news, no 
letter from Mr. Bard. It was an anxious 
time for Mrs. Bard, and none the less so 
for Tom. More than a week had passed 
when the first letters came from the sol- 


THE WAE. 


137 


diers. Among these was one for Mrs. 
Bard. When the postmaster handed this 
to Tom, the boy shouted, “That’s from 
father! Hurrah!” and hurried home as 
swiftly as his feet could carry him. 

The anxious look upon Mrs. Bard’s face 
gave place to one of delight as she saw 
Tom rushing down the street. 

“ It’s come !” he shouted, holding up the 
letter. “ I’ve got the letter ! Father wrote 
it ! ’Tis his handwriting ! Everything is 
all right ! Dead men can’t write letters, 
you know !” and, almost breathless, the 
boy handed the letter to his another. 

Mr. Bard was well, but his letter showed 
that he longed to be at home again. It 
closed with, “Tell Tommy and Jimmy that 
it won’t be long before father will be back ; 
but I am afraid the war won’t be ended by 
that time. As he is praying for you, so pray 
for your husband.” 

Sometimes the letters came often, and 
sometimes more than a week passed with 
not one word from the absent father. 
When several weeks had elapsed, the 
Nortonville people were startled one morn- 


138 TOM BARD. 

ing to see in the daily papers that the sol- 
diers had left Washington and had taken 
possession of Arlington Heights ; but no 
battle had been fought. This relieved Mrs. 
Bard, whose only thought was of the dan- 
ger of battle. 

Soon afterward there appeared in the 
daily papers a single sentence telling that 
a picket-guard had been shot the night 
before. No name was given, and no one 
in Nortonville gave it more than a passing 
thought. In a few days there came a letter 
from one of the Nortonville soldiers to 
Mrs. Bard. ^As gently as he could the 
friend told her that her husband had 
been very dangerously wounded while on 
picket-duty. He advised her not to come 
down, for Mr. Bard would be cared for, 
and word would be sent to her. every day, 
if possible, telling how he was. The let- 
ter was short, but the news was terribly 
sad. 

The next day, when Tom went to school, 
he overheard the boys saying that Mr. 
Beach’s father had received a letter the 
night before from his son telling that James 


THE WAR. 


139 


Bard had been shot dead while on picket- 
duty. Tom’s heart sank within him when 
he heard this news. His first impulse was 
to run home at once to tell his mother. 
Then he asked the boys more especially 
about the letter, and told of the one his 
mother had received the night before. 
Tom could not believe his father dead, 
and the boys thought, with him, that Mr. 
Beach had made a mistake ; so Tom con- 
cluded to wait until night, hoping to get 
another letter then. He waited at the of- 
fice until the mail came, and with it a letter 
for his mother. Trembling between hope 
and fear, Tom ran home. Eagerly his 
mother tore open the envelope and read 
the sad news that Mr. Bard was sinking, 
and probably would not live. The next 
day came a letter telling of his death. 

Perhaps it was a mistaken kindness on 
the part of the friend thus gradually to 
break the sad news to Mrs. Bard ; yet, 
when she received tidings of the blow 
that had made her a widow and her chil- 
dren fatherless, she was the more ready 
to bear it. 


140 


TOM BARD. 


It was a short sentence in the daily pa- 
pers : “ One of the picket-guard was shot 
last night.’' Many thousands read it, and 
perhaps gave it hardly a thought, for the 
soldier was unknown to them. But when 
the full meaning of that single sentence 
reached the home of Tom Bard, it was 
as though an avalanche started by a sin- 
gle shot on the Potomac had been gather- 
ing sorrow and agony as it came until it 
reached a little cottage in Nortonville ; 
there, with the piercing power of a deadly 
missile and the crushing weight of a thun- 
derbolt, it pierced and crushed the souls 
in that little home. There were no noisy 
demonstrations of grief, but the agony was 
all the deeper. Quietly Mrs. Bard went to 
her own little room, and, kneeling down 
beside the bed, buried her face in the pil- 
low, as silently she wept and prayed. Soon 
she felt the strong arm of the widow’s God 
drawing her own bereaved soul closer to 
the All- Father’s heart. While she could 
not yet say, “It is well,” she could say, 
“ God knows all.” 

When the full weight of his sorrow came 


THE WAR. 


I4I 

pressing on the heart of Tom, he, like his 
mother, went to his room, and, throwing 
himself face down on the bed, sobbed in a 
low voice : 

“Oh, my father is dead — dead! He’ll 
never, never come back again. Oh, why 
must it be my father ? Why couldn’t it be 
some one else who had no boys, no wife, 
no one to love him?” 

Slowly Tom grew calmer. Little Jimmy, 
when he saw his mother and brother in 
tears, wept with them, but did not under- 
stand his loss. 

Every one in Nortonville deeply sympa- 
thized with the widow in her sudden and 
terrible sorrow. Her husband was respect- 
ed and loved by all. When, at a public meet- 
ing called the night that Mrs. Bard received 
the sad news of her husband’s death, it was 
resolved to send a committee to bring home 
the body of Mr. Bard and bury it in the 
Nortonville cemetery, every one, even those 
opposed to the war, felt gratified, and all 
wished to do their part toward honoring 
one whom they believed to be a true and 
noble man. 


142 


TOM BARD. 


But it is not my purpose to tell about the 
funeral. Those scenes, so frequent in war- 
times, are too sad to be needlessly brought 
to mind. May our country never again see 
the like ! Those who were young then 
will not forget, even in old age, the many 
bitter sorrows that war, and, above all, civil 
war, brings. 

The death of her husband left Mrs. Bard 
with little for her support except what she 
could obtain by her own efforts. The house 
and lot were paid for, and there were a few 
hundreds of dollars at interest. When she 
saw that she must labor for herself and her 
children, she lost no time in making a be- 
ginning. Instead of using the little sum 
of money left, she determined to let that 
remain at interest, and, if possible, to add 
to it, that she might be enabled in years to 
come to give her boys a good education. 
She told Tom that they must be as eco- 
nomical as possible, since now they had 
no strong arm to work for them. 

“I can live on just as little as you say, 
mother,” said he. “I believe that cheap 
living is the best in the long run. If a 


THE WAR. 


143 


fellow is Hungary once in a while, he will 
not be so likely to get sick. It won’t be 
long, any way. I’ll soon be large enough 
to take care of you and Jimmy. — By and 
by wedl both take care of mother, won’t 
we, old boy?” he asked as he brushed 
Jimmy’s hair from over his eyes. 

“ Of tourse we will,” replied the little 
fellow. “ Den, Tommy, you tan buy a 
wife to tate tare of 'mamma too, tan’t 
you ?” 

“ Oh yes ; I’ll get one for me and two 
.or three for you, Jimmy,” said Tom, cheer- 
ily. 

“ I don’t want no wifes ; dey tost too 

much,” retorted he. “ Mr. Brown told me 

_ _ >> 
so. 

“Well, we can get a cheap one for you ; 
how will that do ?” asked Tom. 

“ Don’t want cheap fings ; dey don’t last,” 
replied the child. 


CHAPTER VII. 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 


ITH the death of his father, Tom’s 



V V anxiety to become a Christian came 
back. The excitement of the war and his 
interest in the Nortonville Rangers had 
taken so much of his thoughts that Bible- 
reading and prayer had been almost neg- 
lected. Since the death of his father the 
war caused him too many sad thoughts, 
and he was glad when vacation gave an ex- 
cuse for neglecting the Rangers. As was 
natural to his impulsive nature, he now 
gave much of his time to reading the 
Bible and to prayer, yet this did not last. 
Slowly he went back to his old ways, put- 
ting off serious thoughts until the close of 
the day. 

One night very late in the autumn, as he 
sat talking with his mother about religious 
matters, he asked. 


144 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 1 45 

“ Mother, is it possible for any one to 
repent at the last day ?’' 

‘ Repent at the last day,’ Tommy ? 
What do you mean by that ?” inquired his 
mother. 

“ I want to know,” he replied, “ if it is 
possible for any who don’t repent before 
death to become Christians after the res- 
urrection and just before the judgment.” 

“ I do not think it possible, after refusing 
the Saviour all through this life.” 

“ But, mother, some may want to repent 
and not be able.” 

“ I do not understand how any one can 
wish to repent and yet be unable.” 

“ It is this way : It’s awful hard for some 
folks to become better. They try and try, 
but they don’t gain. Now, if there should 
be a time coming when they could do bet- 
ter, and they should mean to repent when 
that time came, but should die suddenly 
before, don’t you think that God would 
give them just one chance before the 
judgment ?” 

“No, my son. This world, and not the 
next, is the place in which to repent. No 
10 


146 


TOAf BARD. 


one has a right to count on any future 
time. The Bible says, ‘Now is the ac- 
cepted time ; now is the day of salvation.’ 
If any one puts off that time, he does just 
what God forbids. If any one tries to re- 
pent and cannot do so, it is because he does 
not try aright. But why do you ask that 
question. Tommy?” 

“ ril tell you, mother. I’ve been trying 
to get better for a long time, and haven’t 
gained a bit. It will take something un- 
usual to change me. I can’t do it myself ; 
that’s settled. If a revival were to come, 
and everybody and everything would help, 
then it would be easy to become a Chris- 
tian. I’ve made up my mind to be one as 
soon as a revival comes.” 

“ But before that you may die ; then you 
will be lost.” 

“But, mother, I have done all I can, and 
it amounts to nothing. It seems to me 
that there is nothing for me to do but just 
to wait.” 

“There is one thing. Tommy, that you 
have not done ; it is all that you can do, 
and all that is needed. You have not 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT 1 4 / 

gone to the Lord Jesus and, trusting 
yourself in his hands, asked him to save 
you. He says, 'Come unto me, all ye 
that labor and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest.’ If you had done 
that, you would have been a Christian 
long before this.” 

"I don’t know how to come to Christ. I 
can't find the way.” 

“ You must give yourself to him by faith ; 
believe in Christ, trust yourself to him as 
your Saviour.” 

“There is just the trouble, mother. I 
don’t understand what faith is. Oh, why 
is it so hard to become a Christian ?” 

“It is not hard. Tommy. You make it 
seem so by taking the wrong way.” 

“Well,” said he, in a discouraged tone, 
“I’ll have to wait until a revival comes; 
there is no use trying any longer.” 

In vain did his mother talk to him. After 
a while Tom took his light and went to his 
room. Before going to bed he prayed most 
earnestly that a revival might soon come to 
help him to be a Christian. When in bed, 
he lay for some time thinking of the con- 


148 


TOM BARD. 


versation with his mother, and then began 
talking to himself as usual: 

“ See here, Tom : what’s the use of giv- 
ing yourself so much trouble? You are 
young and strong, and will likely live 
many years yet. A revival will come 
some day, and then will be your time. 
Take things easy, old fellow.” 

This was said rather to test himself than 
as an expression of his own feelings. Then, 
in another tone, as if replying to himself, he 
said, almost contemptuously, 

“ ‘ Live long ’ ! ‘ Take things easy ’ ! Sup- 
pose you do live long ; there will come an 
end. What then, old fellow? Can’t take 
things easy then. But if you do wait for 
a revival, and it comes, how do you know 
that you will care to repent? Some peo- 
ple go through lots of revivals and are 
lost at last. As mother says, revivals 
don’t save folks. Maybe she is right that 
they don’t help people much, either. A 
person must fight just as hard against sin 
then as at any other time. The only help 
then is that it seems popular to be a Chris- 
tian and lots of folks start; so mother says, 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 1 49 

but she didn’t say that some of them stop 
when it stops being popular, though I guess 
it is so. 

“ But, even though a revival does help a 
fellow, you are not sure of one coming. If 
it does not come, what then ? You’ll be in 
a worse fix than you ever dreamed of. No, 
sir; don’t put it off. ‘Now is the accepted 
time ; now is the day of salvation.’ If you 
mean to do a thing, just do it at .once ; that 
is the way to get along. If it is hard, that 
is so much more reason why you should 
attend to it right off. You may fail two 
or three times before you succeed. What 
if you should put this off until your time is 
almost gone, and then, when there is not a 
minute to spare, you should make a mis- 
take ? No time to go back to make things 
right;, you would be lost, Tom. What if 
the judgment should come now? You 
would be bad off. Don’t wait ! But I 
am too sleepy now to think any more.” 

In a few moments Tom was asleep, and 
soon he began to dream. He seemed to 
be talking to his mother as they had talked 
that evening, and he heard her say. 


150 


TOM BARD. 


“You do not know when the judgment 
will come, Tom. It may come at any time. 
Be ready!” 

While they were speaking it began to 
grow dark — awfully dark — about them. 
The sun had not set, and yet its light 
stopped coming to the earth and it 
seemed to grow black in the heavens. 
The moon did not shine, and the light of 
the stars went out. One by one they fell 
toward the earth and were lost in the black- 
ness that was everywhere. The darkness 
seemed to have in it something dreadful. 

Suddenly Tom found himself away from 
earth and alone. What took him he did 
not know. In a few moments he was 
placed in a very large room whose walls 
were so far away that Tom could hardly 
see them, and the sky seemed to be its 
roof. There was no sun nor any other 
light, yet the room was as bright as if the 
sun were shining into it. A great multi- 
tude of people were there, and many 
more were coming from all directions, 
but nearly all were strangers to Tom. 
As he looked at the crowd he saw in 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 151 

the distance the face of his minister, Mr. 
Lawrence ; then he recognized some other 
of the Nortonville people; and while he 
was wondering what they were all doing 
there he saw his mother with them, and 
then, to his surprise and delight, he saw 
the face of his father. Tom forgot every- 
thing else in the joy of seeing him. Rush- 
ing through the crowd he threw his arms 
about him and cried, 

“ Oh, father, have you come back to stay ? 
I thought you were dead and we would never 
see you again.” 

Gently the father removed the arms of 
his son, and, giving Tom a look that, even 
though it was in a dream, he remembered 
years after, he asked, 

“Do you love Jesus, my boy? Is he 
your Saviour?” 

“Not yet, father,” replied Tom, “but I 
mean to be a Christian soon.” 

“ ‘ Mean to,’ Tommy ?” said his father, 
with a look of sorrow. “ It is too late — 
too late for ever. Oh, my boy, my boy !” 

“What do you mean, father?” asked 
Tom. 


152 


TOM BARD. 


' Just then came into the room a man 
whose face shone with beauty, and who 
seemed wrapped in a cloak of brightness. 
He called out, 

“Let all keep silence. The Judge com- 
eth.” 

In a moment every voice was still. Tom 
looked and wondered what all this meant, 
but dared not ask. A dreadful feeling 
began to creep over him as he saw that 
the man clothed in brightness was an 
angel. He was soon followed by others, 
and then a great multitude of angels came 
in. With them was a Being whose face 
shone with a splendor so brilliant and daz- 
zling that Tom could scarcely look at it, 
and yet so beautiful that he could hardly 
keep his eyes from the face. This was 
the Judge. As the glorious Being came 
near Tom saw the faces of his father and 
his mother and of many others light up 
with a happy smile and a look that seemed 
to say that they knew the Judge, and, in- 
stead of fearing his approach, were de- 
lighted to see him. The Judge gave 
them a look so sweet, so loving, that 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 1 53 

Tom felt that for one such look he 
would love the Judge for ever. But 
there were some upon whom he did not 
smile ; some whom he did not seem to 
know, nor even to notice. Among these 
was Tom. Most of them were weeping 
bitterly, while the friends of the Judge 
seemed delighted. Hardly knowing wheth- 
er to be glad with the happy ones or sor- 
rowful with those who wept, Tom stood for 
a while silently watching and wondering. 
Gradually the thought came to him that 
this must be the judgment, and that the 
Judge was Jesus Christ. 

“ Can it be that the judgment has come?” 
said he, in terror, to himself. “ The judg- 
ment here, and I am not ready !” 

Anxiously he looked into the faces of 
his father and his mother, but they seemed 
to have forgotten him. With eyes fixed on 
the Judge, they were perfectly happy. Tom 
tried to speak, but there came over him 
such a feeling of awe and dread that he 
dared not utter a word. 

When the Judge had looked over the 
great multitude, as if to see that all his 


154 


TOM BARD, 


friends were there, he spoke. His voice 
was so sweet and gentle, he appeared to be 
such a loving Saviour, that Tom could not 
help loving him : 

“ Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you from the 
foundation of the world.’' 

When he had spoken, Tom’s father, moth- 
er and the other friends of Jesus gathered 
together and followed the Saviour away 
from the rest. Tom attempted to take 
hold of his father’s hand, but he could not. 
Tom then caught his mother’s hand. She 
stopped, bent down and gave him a kiss 
that had all of mother in it and said, 

“No, Tommy; we cannot take you. 
Good-bye, my boy — good-bye for ever!” 

Then she followed her husband and the 
others. As they were going away Tom 
felt that it was indeed for ever. The 
thought that he would never again see 
his father or his mother was terrible, and 
in agony he cried out, 

“ Oh, father, mother, don’t go away I 
Don’t leave me here alone ! Oh, take 
me with you I Oh, save me, save me 1” 


TOM jD TEAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 155 

His father turned back and with a look 
of fatherly love replied, 

“It is too late, my dear boy — too late, 
too late! You are unfit to go with us. 
Oh that you had been willing years ago ! 
but now it is too late and then he walked 
sadly on. 

For a little while Tom remained as if 
changed to stone. To think that his father 
and his mother had turned away, to think 
that he would never see them again, was 
more than he could endure. Only for a 
moment did he stand still. They were go- 
ing away. He could not part from them ; 
he would not let them go without at least 
one effort more. Hastening forward, he 
caught hold of his mother’s hand, crying, 

“ Oh, mother, don’t leave me, don’t leave 
me ! Pray for me I It may not be too late. 
Perhaps the Judge will listen to you and 
father. Oh, save me I I will do anything^ 
be anything, if only I may go with you.” 

“ It is too late now. Tommy. I did pray 
for you and beg you on earth to go to 
Jesus, but you would not then. It is too 
late now. We can do no more. You 


156 


TOM BARD. 


cannot go with us. We must leave you, 
and it is for eternity ! My darling boy, 
good-bye. Good-bye for ever — for ever!” 

Giving him a long last kiss, she loosened 
his grasp as the Judge turned to look at 
her. 

The same tender, loving expression was 
on his countenance, but when he saw Tom 
it changed suddenly to one of stern and 
awful severity, yet of sadness and pity. 
He spoke to Tom. At the first sound 
of that voice the boy’s hands dropped 
and he stood trembling with terror : 

“ Depart from me, for I never knew 
you.” 

Tom was overwhelmed, crushed, by the 
weight of sorrow that these words of the 
Judge produced. No tears, no sobs, a sin- 
gle groan only, escaped from the wretched 
boy, but that was the death-groan of his 
last hope. 

The Judge motioned an angel to lead 
Tom back to the sorrowful multitude, 
while he led the others away. As they 
were passing on, Tom, standing in silent 
despair, reached out his hands to his fa- 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 1 5 / 

then and his mother, as though his body 
were pleading for what his soul knew was 
hopeless. When the angel came, the boy 
found voice to beg that he might stay to 
see his parents as long as he could; “For,” 
said he, “ I shall never see them again.” 

The angel consented, and, taking Tom 
by the hand, let him look at the retreating 
forms of his father and his mother. When 
the company came near the end of the im- 
mense room, great doors were thrown open, 
and through them burst a light so glorious, 
brilliant and dazzling that Tom could no 
longer distinguish the forms. The Saviour 
and those following him were swallowed up 
in the glory. Then the angel led Tom back 
to the others, who, like himself, were almost 
crushed by sorrow. 

“ I must leave you here,” said the angel. 

When he had gone and Tom stood alone, 
he began fully to understand his condition. 
Slowly and without a tear he spoke to him- 
self. There was an awful calmness in his 
voice, but it was the calmness that told that 
hope was lost. His grief was too deep for 
tears. 


158 


TOM BARD. 


“I am lost/’ said he — “yes, lost for ever. 
I, the boy for whom a Christian father and 
mother have often prayed, for whose soul 
they did everything they could ! Lost, 
after reading my Bible ! Lost, after pray- 
ing and trying for years to be good ! Lost, 
and I wanted, I hoped, to be saved ! Lost 
— yes, lost for eternity ! God has left me ; 
Jesus has driven me from him ! My father 
and my mother have left me for ever! They 
are saved, and I am lost I” 

While he stood in despair an angel with 
a smiling face came to him and said, 

“ Child, it is not too late. Prayers wait 
at the throne to be answered for thee. 
Thy sainted father, thy mother, other 
friends, have united in prayer for thy 
soul. The great King has bidden me 
lead thee back to earth, that thou mayest 
there give thy heart to him. Wait not for 
a convenient season. Felix waited ; his 
season never came. ‘ Now is the accepted 
time ; now is the day of salvation.’ Begin 
at once to seek thy Saviour, and he will be 
found of thee. God be with thee, child. 
We shall meet again, for ever at home.” 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 1 59 

At the words spoken Tom’s heart had 
changed so suddenly from woeful despair 
to delighted joy that he did not notice that 
the angel was taking him from the room. 
It seemed only a moment when his guide 
set him down, saying, 

“ This is earth. I go. Fare thee well !” 

Then, in a flood of glorious light, the 
angel disappeared. 

Tom awoke. It was a dream, yet not all 
a dream. As he opened his eyes he saw a 
light in his room ; a lamp was burning there. 
He looked more closely, and saw his mother 
kneeling beside his bed. She was praying 
for her boy. Tears of joy filled his eyes 
when he saw that he was yet in the world 
and not lost, and that his mother was yet 
with and praying for him. 

Mrs. Bard, hearing him move, arose from 
her knees, and, seeing the tears on his face, 
bent down and kissed him again and again. 

“ Tommy, do you know why I am here ?” 
she asked. 

“Yes, mother ; you were praying for me,” 
he replied. “ I am so glad !” 

“ I did not mean to wake you,” said his 


i6o 


rUM BAND. 


mother, “but I could not help thinking, 
after you had gone to bed, of your put- 
ting off seeking the Saviour until a re- 
vival comes. The thought that perhaps 
none should come, or perhaps you might 
die before one came, would not let me 
sleep. I got up to pray, and then felt that 
I must come here to see if you were still 
alive, for somehow I feared that it might 
already be too late. It is not too late, 
Tommy, is it?” 

“No, mother; I mean to be a Christian, 
and to begin right away.” Then he told 
his dream. “ Do you suppose that God 
let me dream so to make me see the 
danger of putting off?” 

“It may be so. God used to teach 
people through dreams, and I do not see 
why he should not now. But you remember 
that we often dream about things of which 
we have talked and thought just before 
going to sleep. Any way, the dream is 
a warning that I am glad you mean to 
heed.” 

“ Oh, mother, I am so thankful that the 
first part of that dream is not true ! It was 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT l6l 

awful to think of beings away from you and 
father for ever, and to think that I was lost. 
Oh dear !” and Tom shuddered. “ But it 
was so good to see father again ! He seem- 
ed just the same as when he was with us. 
But, mother, I can’t help thinking of that 
look on his face, and on yours too, when 
you saw Jesus. You both seemed so glad, 
so happy, that your faces shone like those 
of the angels. I wonder if Christians will 
be so glad to see the Saviour?” 

“No doubt of it. They will be more 
glad to see him than we can have any idea 
of here. Christians will see him as he is, 
and, more, they will be like him.” 

“ I hope I may be among those who are 
glad ; but oh, I can’t help thinking that I 
may yet be separated from you, cast out 
for ever.” 

“ Why should you be cast out for ever. 
Tommy? You wish to be a Christian, 
your friends wish you to be, and Jesus is 
waiting to save you. Now, what can hin- 
der?” 

“ I don’t know, unless it be Satan and 
my own wicked self.” 

11 


TOM BARD, 


162 

“Jesus is stronger than Satan and your- 
self together/' 

“I know that, mother, but the trouble is 
to get Jesus to save me. There is some- 
thing that I can’t understand. I’ve tried to 
let him save me, but I don’t know how to 
go about it. I seem to be on one side of a 
deep chasm, or gulf, and Jesus on the other, 
with no bridge by which I can get to him. 
He says, ‘ Come unto me,’ but how can I 
go?” 

“Just stay on the edge of that gulf. Tom- 
my, and call to Jesus in prayer to come to 
you ; then expect him to come.” 

“ How shall I know whether he comes or 
not ?” 

“ You must believe that he is coming, that 
he has come, and that he has saved you 
as he promised.” 

“You say I must believe, but, mother, I 
want to know it. You tell me all the while 
to believe, that I must have faith. Some- 
how, I don’t yet understand what faith is.” 

“ * Faith,’ the Bible tells us, ‘ is the sub- 
stance of things hoped for, the evidence of 
things not seen.’ It is taking things to be 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. l6$ 

SO, and believing that they are so, when 
you cannot see, just as you would believe 
could you see them. Suppose that you 
had a rich uncle in California who had 
promised to send you money if you asked. 
What would you do if we were in need ?” 

“ I would write for money and ask him 
to keep his promise.” 

“Yes, and you would expect him to do 
it, too, wouldn’t you, without any further 
promise ? After writing you would wait 
for the money, believing that he would 
send it, would you not ?” 

“Yes, ma’am; I suppose so,” said Tom, 
thoughtfully. 

“Well, Tommy, your writing and expect- 
ing him to send the money, and then wait- 
ing until it came, would be because you had 
faith in your uncle ; you believed that he 
would keep his word. Faith in Jesus is 
believing that he will do what he says, 
and then letting him do it.” 

“ I begin to see it now, mother, but must 
think more about it when alone.” 

“ That is a hint for me to go out, is it ?” 
said Mrs. Bard, with a smile. 


164 


TOM BARD. 


“ No, mother ; I would gladly have you 
stay and talk all night, but you ought to 
sleep.” 

Bidding him “ Good-night,” Mrs. Bard 
went to her room feeling sure that the 
anxious prayer of that night would be 
answered. 

When she was gone, Tom said to him- 
self, 

“Now, Tom Bard, is your time, if you 
mean to be a Christian. — That is just what 
I mean to be, and to begin here and now.” 

In a moment he was out of the bed and 
kneeling beside it. He prayed : 

“ O Lord, the dream has taught me a 
lesson ; I want to use it now. I come to 
thee because I cannot help myself. I want 
to serve thee from this time for ever. But 
I am a sinner and not fit to be thy servant. 
Forgive me and help me to do better, and 
don’t — oh, don’t ! — let me go back again. 
I cannot hold out if left to myself, but will 
soon become as bad as ever. O Lord, 
help me ! I give myself to thee, poor, 
worthless and helpless, to be made better, 
to be saved. Thou must do it from love 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 16$ 

to a poor sinner and because thou art 
merciful. I have nothing to pay. I leave 
it all with thee, for I can do nothing. Take 
me as thou hast promised, and let me soon 
feel that it is all right. If there be any- 
thing wrong, show me what it is; and, O 
Lord, don’t let me make a mistake. I want 
to be saved, I want to be thine, no matter 
what it costs. Do not, I pray thee, let me 
go back, and do not let me make a mis- 
take. I want to be thine, only thine — thine 
for ever.” 

Tom arose from his knees with a feeling 
of peace in his heart. He felt that he had 
started and had given the work of salvation 
to Jesus, and that all would be right. He 
could not go to sleep without a little talk 
to himself. 

“ I think,” said he, “ that Jesus will do as 
he says. I am glad that I have asked him. 
How foolish in me to try so long to save 
myself! It seems to me that I have been 
at the bottom of an awful steep mountain, 
and to get over I have just been tugging 
away at my boot-straps, trying to lift my- 
self up. No wonder I didn’t gain a bit. 


i66 


TOM BARD. 


It isn’t in a fellow to lift himself, and he 
can’t do any more when he tries to be good. 
Here I’ve been tugging away to lift my- 
self up, and all the time the Saviour has 
been waiting to do it for me. He knew I 
couldn’t, but just let me try, I suppose, to 
let me see how little I can do. I’ve asked 
him now, and mean to let him do it for 
me. 

“ Big fellow you thought yourself, Tom, 
to do the work that it takes the Saviour 
to do. It’s well you found it out before 
it was too late. If that dream had been 
real, it would have been all up with you. 
It isn’t real, and it is because the Lord is 
so merciful that it is not real. But I won’t 
think of the dream ; it was too awful. I 
have given myself to Jesus : he will save 
me. How good in him to do it! No 
wonder that the Bible says God is love. 
He must be all love, to save such fellows 
as I am. It will be all right, I tell you, 
Tom. It makes a fellow feel good to 
think that he is really going to be saved. 
I don’t feel that it’s all right yet, but it 
will be. The Lord will show me what is 


TOM DREAMS OF THE JUDGMENT. 1 67 

wrong, and will put me right. How good 
the Lord is ! Better than I thought. It is 
good to think that Jesus really loves me, 
and that it is settled that he will save 
me. 

In a few minutes Tom was asleep. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


//OPV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR, 

HEN Tom awoke the next morning, 



V V his first thoughts were of the dream, 
of his talk with his mother and of what had 
been done by him in the night. 

“You have started to live a Christian life, 
Tom,” he said to himself; “you must begin 
right off this morning, and keep it up all 
day. Not only to-day, though, but always. 
There are some hard tussels for you, old 
boy ; you have tried this thing before, you 
know, and have come out beaten every 
time. Now you start to win because 
Jesus will help you ; don’t forget that he 
is your strength, your help.” 

Tom met his mother with an unusually 
happy face. 

“ Well, Tommy,” said she, “ do you under- 
stand now what faith is ?” 

“I think so, mother, but I don’t feel just 


//OfV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. 1 69 

right yet. I believe that Jesus will save 
me, but I don’t feel that I am saved yet. 
It will come all right, though; I am sure 
of that.” 

“Let me give you a word of warning 
and caution, my boy. You will find diffi- 
culties and temptations ; very likely some 
will come to you to-day. Do not try to 
fight them with your own strength. As 
soon as one comes let your prayer go up 
to the Lord Jesus ; give the whole matter 
into his hands and trust him to see you 
through.” 

“ That is just what I mean to do, mother. 
I don’t believe anything is going to trip me 
to-day.” 

“ Don’t be too sure, my boy ; Satan is 
always watching, and he will come just 
when and where you do not expect him.” 

Tom. went to school with a light heart. 
He felt comfortable in the thought that he 
would be a Christian and that the Saviour 
was his friend. 

“ It doesn’t seem so hard to be a Chris- 
tian now,” he said to himself as he was 
walking to school alone. 


lyo TOM BARD, 

Harry Meyer was not there that day, 
and Tom missed him. He determined 
to tell Harry of his starting to be a 
Christian. 

Matters went all right until noon ; then, 
as the boys were running from the school 
to the playground, Bill Snyder put out his 
foot and tripped Tom. He fell and hurt 
himself. John Warner laughed at his 
fall. 

This was more than Tom could bear. 
Getting up, he looked Bill in the face and 
in an angry voice cried out, 

“ Bill Snyder, you are a mean coward, to 
trip up a fellow in that way. You wouldn't 
dare to do it to one of your own size. If 
I was a little bigger, you’d suffer for that. 
And John Warner is just as big a coward 
as you, to laugh when a fellow hurts him- 
self.” 

“ Going to stand that, John ?” asked 
Bill. 

“ It don’t hurt me,” replied John, coolly ; 
but you ought not to trip a fellow in that 
way. Bill.” 

“It will do the impudent rascal good,” 


J/OPV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. I/I 

retorted Bill, “ to let him tumble once in a 
while ; he’s got too much of an opinion of 
himself for a poor rag-tag.” 

“I am no more of a rag-tag than you 
are, Bill Snyder,” retorted Tom, hastily. 

Mrs. Bard, since the death of her hus- 
band, had been obliged to support herself 
and her two boys by her work, and had 
already found out what poverty meant. 
Tom had not of late dressed so well as 
before, and often wore patched, but never 
ragged, clothing. Bill had more than once 
spoken sneeringly of Tom’s patched clothes, 
and had noticed that he was very sensitive 
about his poverty. 

“Bill Snyder,” continued Tom, “you 
know well enough why I wear patched 
clothes. My father, who used to provide 
me with all I needed, had to die to give 
your father a chance to make money. I’d 
rather wear rags and be the son of a sol- 
dier who died, for his country than wear the 
best and yet be the son of a man who sells 
poor meat to the soldiers who are defend- 
ing his country.” 

Mr. Snyder had government contracts 


172 


TOM BARD. 


for furnishing meat to the army, and it was 
rumored that he bought the poorest and 
cheapest he could get and sold it for the 
best, at the highest price, to the govern- 
ment. Bill had heard this story before, 
and had even heard some of the children 
whom he had teased, when out of his reach, 
calling to him, “ Hey, old stinking-meat 
seller !’' To be twitted for this now before 
the whole school, when he had already 
done a mean and cowardly thing, was too 
much for even the cowardly Bill. 

“Take that,” he said, striking Tom a 
severe blow, “ you ragamuffin ! If ever I 
hear you say that again, you’ll get the 
biggest thrashing you ever had.” 

Tom was thoroughly angry now, and at 
once rushed at Bill and began striking him. 

“ Give it to him, Tommy !” said one and 
another of the smaller boys. 

The suddenness of the attack was more 
than Bill was prepared for, and he tried to 
push Tom away. John Warner saw that 
the sympathies of the school were with 
Tom, and that his friend was likely to get 
the worst of it, for since Tom had started 


BOW TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. 1/3 

to fight their common enemy the rest 
would be likely to help ; so John caught 
Tom by the shoulder, saying, 

“ Hold on here, Tom ! What is the use 
of fighting? Bill didn’t mean to hurt you. 
It’s enough to make any one mad to have 
hard things said about his father. You are 
both to blame. Now, just stop fighting.” 

Bill was glad of the chance to escape, 
and, walking slowly away, he muttered, 

“ I don’t want to fight him, nor anybody 
else.” 

Tom and his friends went to their play, 
while Bill and John and one or two others 
stood idly around the school-house. 

“ I wish John had let Tom go,” said Ben- 
nie Moore. “ He would have whipped Bill; 
and if he hadn’t, I would have helped. I 
guess we all together could have given 
Bill Snyder the biggest thrashing he ever 
had, and John Warner, too, for that mat- 
ter.” 

‘‘Why didn’t you come on, then, and 
help ?” asked Tom. 

“I was just watching a chance to pitch 
in,” replied Bennie Moore. 


74 


TOM BARD. 


“ So was I,” said Will Harris. “ Fd like 
to see Bill Snyder thrashed so badly that 
he would not know what he was about.” 

“ Oh, let’s let Bill alone now,” said Fred 
De Hart. “ Tom did give him two or three 
hits that he won’t forget soon.” 

“ Let us have a game of ‘ Fox and Dog.’ 
You be dog, Tom ; you can beat most of us 
running, and you hold, too, when you catch 
a fellow,” spoke James Hull. 

“ Let some one else be dog,” replied 
Tom. “I don’t feel like running much; that 
fall hurt my knee.” 

Tom’s knee was hurt, but his heart was 
■^hurt worse. Bill had tripped him in more 
ways -than one. While the other boys were 
running Tom stayed in the hole and ex- 
cused himself on the plea that his knee 
hurt him too much to run ; but he wanted 
to think. He soon forgot his anger toward 
Bill in the thought that he had yielded to 
the very first temptation that came along. 
He had been angry, had fought, had spoken 
unkindly, and deep down in his heart there 
had been a feeling of murder. For a mo- 
ment he had wished Bill dead, and, had he 


J/OIV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. 1 75 

been able, might have killed him. During 
the few moments that he was alone Tom 
thought of his broken resolution and of his 
sinfulness, and was almost ready to despair. 
But as the foxes came back to their holes, 
chased by Fred De Hart and two others 
whom he had caught, who were now sup- 
posed to be dogs with him, he heard Ben- 
nie say, 

“Don’t give up, Fred; you’ll do better 
the next time. Can’t catch a whole flock 
of foxes in one run.” 

“ That’s so,” thought Tom, applying Ben- 
nie’s words to himself. “ I’ll try again.” 

The boys gave him no time to- think, 
however. 

“ Come, Tom,” said Bennie Moore ; “ your 
knee is better now. We want you to run 
with us ; we don’t need any foxes in the 
hole.” 

“Yes, come,” said Will Harris. “Fred 
will go for you, and then the rest of us 
will have fun leading the other two dogs 
around the field.” 

Tom was soon as active as ever in the 
sport, and for the time forgot Bill Snyder. 


76 


TOM BARD, 


When the bell rang for school in the 
afternoon, Tom went to his studies as 
cheerful as anybody, but in the quiet of 
the school-room came the remembrance of 
his broken resolutions. Unconsciously his 
eye turned toward Bill, who saw him look- 
ing. At once nudging his next neighbor and 
pointing to Tom’s patched clothing. Bill be- 
gan laughing. This was done to tease and 
annoy Tom. In a moment the poor fellow 
forgot his sorrow for his broken resolutions 
and wished for a chance to punch Bill’s 
head. Noticing his* angry look. Bill was 
pleased ; he knew that in this way he could 
safely pay Tom off for the severe blows of 
the noon ; and the cowardly fellow watched 
during the whole afternoon for opportuni- 
ties to annoy Tom. 

It was a sad afternoon to Tom. Between 
his own reproving conscience and Bill’s an- 
noyances, he studied little, and hardly knew 
whether he was more angry at Bill for troub- 
ling or at himself for breaking his resolu- 
tions. He longed for school to be out 
that he might reach home and be away 
from Bill. 


no IV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. I// 

As they were going home from school at 
night Bill shoved Fred De Hart into a ditch. 
He was not hurt, but he was angry. Tom, 
who had not lost his own bitter feeling, spoke 
in an angry tone : 

“ Bill Snyder, I would like to see you 
tumbled in the mud in every ditch in the 
country. The mud is the place for you, 
any way ; you are not fit to be with decent 
boys.” 

“What business is that of yours, Tom 
Bard?” shouted Bill, angrily. 

“ It is a good deal of his business,” re- 
torted Fred De Hart. “ It will some day 
be the business of us smaller boys to put 
you into the ditch. Wait till we get a 
chance ; if you don’t get muddied up, it 
will be because there is no mud around.” 

“ That is so,” added Will Harris. 

“ Call on me, Tom and Fred,” said Ben- 
nie Moore, “ and I guess we’ll pay him off 
for all he has done. Big cowardly brute 1 
He’s always shoving or hurting somebody 
smaller than himself.” 

“ Come on. Bill,” said John Warner, who 
saw that it was best for his friend to be 


12 


178 


TOM BARD. 


away. Bill was as willing as John to leave 
the smaller boys behind, and the two hur- 
ried ahead. 

“ Cowards !” shouted Tom Bard. 

“ They had better run,’' echoed Fred De 
Hart ; “ one is about as bad as the other.” 

“I believe John puts Bill up to half of his 
mischief,” said Will Harris. 

Tom reached home with a sad heart that 
night. After the experience of the day he 
asked himself, “ How can a fellow be a 
Christian, with Bill Snyder around?” The 
more he thought, the more Bill seemed to 
be to blame. 

“ It will be going that way all the while,” 
said he to himself when alone after his 
night’s work was done. “ Bill Snyder will 
always be hindering me. He is a regular 
tempter, and I don’t see how any one can 
be a Christian where he is.” 

Mrs. Bard noticed the sober look on 
Tom’s face and asked, 

“ Did anything go wrong to-day. Tommy, 
that you are so sober ?” 

“Yes, mother,” he replied; “everything 
went wrong. I’ve got ’way back again 


//OlV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. 'l/Q 

where I was before I started. I don’t be- 
lieve I can be a Christian, with Bill Snyder 
near me.” 

“ What does Bill Snyder have to do with 
your being a Christian ? I thought you 
had given the matter into the hands of 
Christ. He is stronger than all the Bill 
Snyders in the world.” 

Tom told the story of his trouble with 
Bill, and then added, 

" That is the way he is doing all the while, 
mother. When we smaller boys don’t do 
anything at all, he trips us, he pushes us, 
he kicks us, he does everything he can to 
give us trouble. It is no use to try to be 
a Christian while I am going to school. 
Can’t I stay home for a few weeks, moth- 
er, until I get stronger for doing right?” 

“ People don’t get strong for fighting evil, 
Tom, by running away from it, but by meet- 
ing the evil and struggling to overcome it.” 

'‘You don’t mean, mother, that I must 
meet Bill and whip him ?” 

“ No, but you must be able, without wish- 
ing to pay back, to suffer the annoyances 
that Bill gives.” 


i8o 


TOM BARD. 


‘‘Well, rm glad it is Saturday to-mor- 
row; I shall not be bothered with Bill for 
two days, any way.” 

“ Tom,” said his mother, “ need you be 
told again that your great trouble is trust- 
ing to Tom Bard and not to your Sav- 
iour?” 

“Perhaps it is,” said he; “but before I 
have time to think of the Saviour, Bill will 
do some mean thing, and then I can’t help 
letting out on him. I feel sorry enough 
about it afterward. I have felt sorry all the 
afternoon for what I did, and yet I feel bad 
toward Bill. I wish he would stop or some- 
thing.” 

“Did you ever pray for Bill, Tommy?” 

“ Pray for him ? Why, no, mother. 
Ought I? I’ve prayed to be kept from 
getting angry when he teases me, and that 
I may forgive him; and I’ve prayed, too, 
that he may stop troubling me ; but I have 
never prayed for just him alone.” 

“Well, my son, try it. Pray that he may 
become a Christian.” 

“ But, mother, he don’t want to be a 
Christian.” 


J/OIV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. l8l 

“ Then pray that he may wish to become 
one. After all, your trouble is not so much 
with Bill Snyder as it is with Satan, who, I 
think, is using Bill to keep you from being 
a Christian. Instead of fighting Bill, fight 
Satan. Try to get Bill out of his power; 
in that way you not only will be saved a 
great deal of trouble, but will receive a 
blessing for doing good and at the same 
time save another soul.” 

“ Mother, you have given me a new start, 
and- in a new way. I begin to see it now. 
Satan has been shoving Bill in between me 
and the Saviour, and I have tried to find 
Jesus some other way, but couldn’t because 
the only way lies right past Bill. I’m just 
like the Christian pilgrim who found lions 
along the way. Bill is one of my lions, 
and — Yes, I’m going past him, even if 
he isn’t chained. Isn’t much lion about 
Bill, though,” said Tom, half to himself. 

“ He is worth saving, at any rate.” 

. “ That is so, mother. I was just thinking 
how good it would have been for others if 
Christian had coaxed up those lions and 
made them so tame that they would not 


1 82 


TOM BARD. 


trouble any other pilgrims. Now, if Bill 
becomes a Christian, he won’t trouble any 
others like me who try to find and to serve 
Christ. Mother, I am going to do what I 
can to lead Bill to the Saviour. Will you 
pray for him too ?” 

“Yes, Tommy, gladly. But you must let 
your life pray for Bill.” 

“ How can I do that ?” 

“ By showing him that you are trying to 
live a Christian life, and that he would be 
happier and better to be a Christian too. 
Always treat him kindly, no matter how 
much he provokes you.” 

“That’ll be one of the biggest jobs I ever 
undertook, but I am going at it.” 

“Ask the Saviour to help you ; trust en- 
tirely in him, Tom, and you will succeed in 
time, even though you may not do so at 
first.” 

After the talk with his mother. Torn felt 
better. He went out to the little barn de- 
termined to begin at once to pray for Bill 
as well as for himself. It was growing late 
as, with his Testament in his pocket, he 
climbed to the hayloft and kneeled down 


J/OfV TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. 1 83 

to pray. All his hate was gone. Bill was 
no longer an enemy, but one for whom he 
wished good. As he prayed he almost 
forgot Bill’s unkindness, and thought more 
of his own to Bill. The more he prayed 
for Bill, the more sorry he became for his 
own wrong-doing. He seemed to be the 
greater sinner of the two. While pray- 
ing he thought of the words of Christ: “If 
ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither 
will your Father forgive your trespasses.” 
Suddenly his prayer closed. 

“ There, Tom Bard !” said he to himself 
aloud; “that’s been your trouble. You 
wouldn’t forgive Bill ; you hated him in 
your heart all the while you were trying 
to be a Christian. You were not forgiven, 
because you would not forgive. That was 
reasonable and fair. You have been pray- 
ing and expecting the Lord to forgive you 
all your many and great sins, and yet have 
been unwilling to forgive Bill a half dozen 
or so of wrongs he did you. But you have 
forgiven him now, haven’t you? — Yes. 

“ How about John Warner and all the 
other boys ? Remember, if you don’t for- 


84 


TOM BARD. 


give them, your heavenly Father won’t for- 
give you. That’s settled. — Yes, I forgive 
all. — Wait, Tom! Forgive all? For how 
long? Until you get angry at them 
again ? That won’t do. God forgives 
for ever; you must forgive as he does if 
you expect to be forgiven. Can’t bring it 
back again to find fault about it. What 
you forgive now must stay forgiven, re- 
member, or it is no forgiveness. — But I 
want to see more about that forgiveness. 
There is something just before or after.” 
He took out the Testament and found the 
sixth chapter of Matthew, fourteenth verse, 
and by the fading light was able to see as 
he read aloud : “ For if ye forgive men 
their trespasses, your heavenly Father will 
also forgive you.” 

“ There I” said he ; “ I’ve done that. I 
forgive everybody, and by the Lord’s help 
don’t mean to hold a grudge against any 
one. I have forgiven ; now I can ask to 
be forgiven, and can expect the Lord to 
keep his word.” 

He began to pray again ; this time it was 
more for himself than for Bill. He said. 


HOW TOM FOUND THE SAVIOUR. 1 85 

“ O Lord, I’m worse than Bill Snyder. 
He has not had such teaching as I have 
had. I am one of the worst of sinners 
and yet thought myself good. Oh, for- 
give me ! Thou hast said if we forgive 
men their trespasses our heavenly Father 
will forgive us. I have tried to forgive 
all ; help me to do it aright, entirely and 
for ever, and then, O Lord, keep thy word. 
I have tried to do as thou hast told me ; 
now be pleased to do as thou hast prom- 
ised.” 

When he arose from his knees it was 
with a light heart. 

“ See here, Tom Bard,” he began to say 
to himself : “ if ye forgive men their tres- 
passes, your heavenly Father will also for- 
give yours. Why are you not forgiven? 
Jesus tells the truth always. — I shall be 
forgiven, no doubt. — But why not now? 
You have forgiven ; how do you know 
that you are not forgiven already, only 
you don’t feel it ? — That’s so. — It’s just 
as the sun shines in the morning, and a 
boy who is asleep don’t see it, but the 
sun shines, any way. As soon as the boy 


rOM BARD. 


1 86 

opens his eyes he will see. So as soon as 
your eyes are open you will see that you 
are forgiven. — Yes, that’s it. Why, then 
I am forgiven already. Then I’m a Chris- 
tian, too. Can it be? It must be. Well, 
I never thought it could be so easy as that. 
Can it be that I am a Christian ? It seems 
too good to be true ; yet I have the Lord’s 
own words for it. It is wonderful what a 
Saviour Jesus is. What a Christian I 
should be, then !” 

Tom had gradually found the way to 
Christ, and to his soul gradually came the 
consciousness that he was a Christian. He 
was a happy boy ; yet he dared not give 
his happy feelings full vent, for fear that he 
had made a mistake, and that he might not 
really be a Christian, after all. 


CHAPTER IX. 


TOM’S PASTOR. 

E go back for a while to the begin- 



V V ning of our story to say something 
about Tom’s pastor. 

Mr. Lawrence was not young in years, 
but he was young in heart. Cheerful and 
happy himself, he tried to make every one 
else happy. He preached the gospel be- 
cause he believed that it presented the only 
way to lasting good and happiness. Though 
Mr. Lawrence was not a better man than 
Mr. Broadland, the former pastor at Nor- 
tonville, yet he was a very different man. 
Mr. Broadland was a noble man, a faithful 
pastor and a true Christian, but he had 
been born under a shadow and had never 
been able to get out of it. He seldom 
laughed and rarely, if ever, joked. Every 
one honored him as a good man, but the 
children thought of him as the minister of 


187 


i88 


TOM BARD. 


their parents and not of themselves. Tom 
Bard expressed the feeling of the children 
when he said, “ Mr. Broadland talks to us 
as if we were sick and he was the doctor 
who wanted to save us, but did not know 
how to go about it.” 

When Mr. Broadland left Nortonville 
most of the grown people were sorry, and 
even the children wept, but why they could 
hardly tell. They had become so accus- 
tomed to his quiet, serious manner that 
they could not at first understand the lively 
ways of Mr. Lawrence. They listened to 
his sprightly words in solemn silence. 
Some wanted to laugh, but they hardly 
dared smile at the sayings of a minister. 
They could not understand how the same 
man could preach and yet be full of fun. 

For a few days after he came to Nor- 
tonville the children kept out of Mr. Law- 
rence’s way; but, in spite of themselves, 
he would meet and talk with them, and so 
pleasantly that they could not help liking 
him. Gradually the dullest of them un- 
derstood that the new minister was just 
as full of life and fun as a boy. When 


TOM'S PASTOR. iSg 

this became certain to all, there was many 
a discussion about Mr. Lawrence. 

One day Will Harris exclaimed, 

“I tell you Mr. Lawrence is not a reg- 
ular minister: he’s only an experiment. 
Those big folks that fit men for ministers 
have seen that the old kind don’t always 
do ; so they’ve tried a new kind. Mr. Law- 
rence is one of the new kind. He’s bet- 
ter than the old ones ;^that’s my opinion.” 
Will had been afraid of Mr. Broadland. 

“Well, if he’s a new kind, I hope the 
minister-smiths — or what are they called? 
— will keep on making them like Mr. Law- 
rence,” said Fred De Hart. “ He knows 
about boys, any way.” 

‘.‘.‘He knows about girls too,” added Nellie 
Harris. “ Do you believe that he asked me 
the other day if I ever took my dollie out to 
tea, and said that I must bring her to the 
parsonage some day, and then Mrs. Law- 
rence, dollie, he and I would have a good 
time? To think that a minister would 
care about dolls, and he a man, too ! But 
I am going to take dollie, and we mean 
to stay to tea, too; mamma said I might.” 


190 


TOM BARD. 


“You going to the minister’s house, 
Nellie?” asked Ella Raymond, in sur- 
prise. “You are not good enough. I 
wouldn’t dare go ; I am afraid of min- 
isters.” 

“ I am not afraid of Mr. Lawrence,” 
answered Nellie, “and Mrs. Lawrence is 
just splendid.” 

“ I like Mr. Lawrence,” said Harry 
Meyer ; “ he is first rate ; only I am 
afraid that he is not so good a minister 
as Mr. Broadland was.” 

“Why not, Harry?” asked Tom, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Because he is so often laughing,” was 
the reply. “ I don’t see how ministers who 
read the Bible and pray a great deal can 
be so full of fun.” 

“ Pshaw ! My mother laughs and jokes 
and likes fun as well as anybody,” an- 
swered Tom, “ and I know that she is 
good. I don’t believe that religion is 
dismal, any way.” 

“I don’t, either,” replied Harry; “but it 
seems to me that ministers should be more 
sober than Mr. Lawrence is. Yet I would 


TOM^S PASTOR. 


I9I 

rather have him joke and laugh than be 
so very sober as Mn Broadland was. It 
makes me think that he is like other folks 
and knows how they feel.’' 

“That’s what I say,” echoed Tom. “If 
ministers can joke and laugh, then I think 
they’ll understand me, for I can’t help laugh- 
ing and joking too. It’s in me ; I didn’t put 
it there, either, and I can’t help letting it 
out sometimes. I should think it was 
wrong, though, if my mother did not like 
fun so much ; and if ever there was a 
good woman, she is one. I don’t believe 
that it’s being sober that makes people 
good.” 

“ Nor do I,” chimed in Fred De Hart. 
“When we boys in school are up to mis- 
chief, we generally keep pretty sober, so 
that no one will think we are the ones.” 

“Yes, and you are as sober when you 
are found out,” added Bennie Moore. 

“Well,” said John Warner, “Mr. Law- 
rence is just the one I want to keep clear 
of if Pm in any trick. Boys, we can’t fool 
him as we fooled Mr. Broadland. The 
new minister can see through more tricks 


192 


rOM BARD. 


in one day than the old one could in a 
year. He hasn’t got that gray eye for 
nothing. Being sober won’t do with him; 
he’d see through a straight face at once. I 
tell you, Mr. Lawrence was a real boy once, 
and he hasn’t forgot it yet ; so just look 
out.” 

John’s warning was not forgotten, and 
the children, while they soon learned to 
regard Mr. Lawrence as their friend, and 
to love him and his wife dearly, were more 
careful of their conduct than they had ever 
before been. His earnest appeals from the 
pulpit and in the Sabbath-school, followed 
by tender words to this and that one whom 
he happened to meet, soon compelled the 
conviction that Mr. Lawrence had, above 
all, one great object — the salvation of each 
member of his congregation. 

During Mr. Broadland’s ministry there 
had been a great deal of whispering in 
the church among the young people. The 
good man had given them many sharp re- 
bukes from the pulpit, yet to little purpose. 
Shortly after Mr. Lawrence came he no- 
ticed, one Sunday evening, several young 


TOM^S PASTOR. 


193 


ladies whispering and laughing. Suddenly 
he stopped and, leaning on the pulpit-desk, 
looked quietly at the whisperers. In a few 
moments all eyes were directed in the same 
way. Surprised at the silence, the young 
ladies looked up, and were mortified to see 
not only the minister, but the whole congre- 
gation, watching them. When they became 
quiet, Mr. Lawrence continued his sermon 
without a word about the interruption. Be- 
fore he was through, the whispering began 
again in another part of the church, and 
at once the preacher was silent. Quietly 
leaning on the desk, he watched the dis- 
turbers for a few moments, and then said, 
pleasantly, 

“ What I have to say can wait until others 
are through.” 

After that the church services at Nor- 
tonville were seldom disturbed ; and if 
whispering began, it needed but a mo- 
ment’s silence on -the part of the preach- 
er to ensure stillness throughout the au- 
dience. 

In the same quiet way he controlled the 
Sabbath- school. One Sabbath afternoon 


13 


194 


TOM BARD. 


Bennie Moore and Will Harris, while wait- 
ing for the library-books, traded knives. 
They thought that Mr. Lawrence was 
looking another way, but he was watching 
them. At the close of the school the min- 
ister, putting his hand on the shoulder of 
each of the boys, said in a low voice, heard 
by the two alone, ^ 

“ Did not you boys trade something 
besides knives this afternoon ? Did not 
the other one with whom you traded cheat ^ 
both of you badly ? He may cheat you 
worse some day.” j 

Bennie and Will made no reply, but Mr. ■< 
Lawrence’s questions set them to thinking. 
They did no more trading on Sunday. 

One afternoon, when the Sabbath-school ' 
was out, Mr. Lawrence saw John Warner 
and Bill Snyder go by a roundabout way 
to a neighbor’s orchard. At night, passing ; 
them on the road to church, the minister 
said, kindly, 

“ I am afraid that you both forgot your- ‘x 
selves after Sabbath-school to-day. Did ; 
you not forget God too ? Will he for- . 
get?" :• 


TOM^S PASTOR. 


195 


It’s just as I told you, Bill,” whispered 
John when Mr. Lawrence had gone on. 
“ He is the keenest man in the village. 
He can see by a fellow’s moves what he 
is about. You don’t catch me sneaking 
into other people’s grounds again.” 

When Mr. Lawrence had been in Nor- 
tonville about a year, he succeeded in hav- 
ing a charming Christmas concert exercise 
and festival in connection with the Sabbath- 
school. While guarding against the abuse 
of such an occasion, he managed to have 
it a glad season to the young people, and 
at the same time a really profitable and 
impressive service. 

The Sabbath after the festival there was 
a large gathering in the Sunday-school. 
Mr. Lawrence requested the superintend- 
ent to make the exercises shorter than 
usual, as he wished to talk to the school. 
Before the closing hymn he thanked the 
children for their attendance and faithful 
work, and congratulated them on the suc- 
cess of the festival. Then he referred to 
those who were absent. Alvin Brayton 
and one or two others had been away, 


TOM BARD. 


196 

though Alvin was the only absent one who 
had a part in any dialogue, and that had 
been omitted from the exercises. Mr. 
Lawrence told them how sorry he was to 
miss these scholars — not so much that their 
parts were not taken as that they were 
not present to enjoy the exercises. Then 
he spoke of another festival — a grander 
one — to which they were invited. Grad- 
ually he led their thoughts to Jesus, who 
had gone to prepare a place and presents 
for each one, and had invited them and 
wished each one to accept now. Tenderly 
the pastor urged the young people to ac- 
cept the invitation. He described the gath- 
ering of their school in heaven, and asked, 

“ Shall we all be there ? Will some of 
our school be missing, as we missed some 
last night? Who shall be absent?” 

So earnestly did he look at one and an- 
other of the school that each felt that Mr. 
Lawrence meant him — her. 

“ Must we miss one — only one ? What ! 
one of our school be absent from heaven — 
lost? Oh no; we cannot spare one. Do 
not suffer us to look for you in vain. Will 


TOM'S PASTOR. I97 

you accept the invitation of Jesus? Who 
will accept it now?” 

The minister closed, but remained stand- 
ing and looking at the children. 

In a moment nearly every child, and 
many of the young people too, raised 
their hands, as if in answer to their pas- 
tor’s appeal. 

Mr. Freeland, the superintendent, no- 
ticed the deep interest in the school, and 
as soon as Mr. Lawrence closed he rose 
to his feet, just as the children responded 
to their pastor’s appeal. He proposed 
that, since so many wished to accept the 
invitation of the Saviour, the school re- 
main together for a prayer-meeting of f.f- 
teen minutes, and that each one then and 
there give himself to the Saviour. Mr. 
Lawrence gladly agreed to this. Permis- 
sion was given for each one who chose to 
leave before the prayer-meeting began. 
Only a few of the smallest children went 
out, and they came back when they saw 
that the others remained. It was a prayer- 
meeting never forgotten by those who were 
present. To say that there were four or 


TOM BARD. 


198 

five brief earnest prayers, a verse each of 
two or three hymns sung, and a few words 
spoken by Mr. Freeland and Mr. Lawrence, 
would be to tell all that was heard ; but it 
would not describe what was felt, nor can 
words do that. When the closing hymn 
was sung, each one wished to remain 
longer. 

There was no school during the week 
following, but the children often met on 
the pond and in the street. The boys 
seemed unusually quiet, and the girls, 
while they enjoyed the holidays, seemed 
to be under a new influence. There was 
much talk yet about the Christmas festival, 
and there were also many quiet talks about 
the other festival of which their pastor had 
spoken. 

Some snow fell early in the week, yet 
not enough to prevent the boys scraping 
it off the mill-pond, so as to have good 
skating; and the children, especially the 
boys, found enough sport in riding down 
hill and skating and sliding on the ice. 
But the sport did not take their minds 
entirely from more serious thoughts. . 


TOM'S TASTOJ^. 


199 


Tom, while enjoying the skating and the 
coasting as much as any one, did not forget 
his better joy; nor did he neglect to speak 
of it to others. Before this he had often 
talked to his friends about becoming Chris- 
tians, but had found them unwilling to say 
much. Many seemed ready to talk now, 
especially Harry and Bennie. He wanted 
Mr. Lawrence to speak to the boys ; but, 
as they seemed afraid to talk to any of the 
grown people, Tom thought best to wait. 
He remembered how hard it had been for 
him to speak to Mr. Lawrence the first 
time about his own soul. 

The next Sabbath nearly every scholar 
was present, and the seriousness of the 
Sunday before had not passed away. 
There was another short prayer-meeting 
at the close of the school, and all stayed 
except a few of the smaller children. The 
meeting was as solemn as the one of a week 
before ; and when it ended, many left it more 
serious than after the former one. 

On Monday the weekday school began, 
and Mr. Wyckoff was back again at his 
post. On their way home a number of 


200 


TOM BARD. 


the boys and girls talked of the Sunday* 
afternoon prayer-meetings. 

“I hope we shall have one every Sun- 
day,” said Belle Brayton. 

So do I,” added Tom Bard. 

“ Maybe Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Free- 
land will agree to it if we ask them,” said 
Harry. 

“Why can’t we have a prayer-meeting 
ourselves ?” asked Nellie Harris. 

“ Where could we have a meeting ?” in- 
quired her brother Will. 

“I don’t know,” replied Nellie, “unless 
we held it in the church.” 

“We youngsters have prayer-meeting in 
church?” echoed Fred De Hart, in sur- 
prise. “ They wouldn’t let us have the 
church; and if they did, who would pray?” 

“ Why, you boys,” replied Belle Brayton. 

“We boys ?” said Bennie Moore. “ Can’t 
pray for ourselves alone ; we’d make pretty 
work praying in public. Besides, not one 
of us is a member of the church, and it 
would be wicked for us to try to pray in 
church.” 

“ I wish we could have prayer-meeting 


TOM’S PASTOR. 


201 


somewhere,” sighed Nellie Harris, “for I 
do want to be better.” 

“ So do I,” “And I,” “And 1,” echoed 
many of the children. 

The next morning Nellie, Belle Brayton 
and four other girls went together to 
school, and Nellie proposed that they 
six hold a prayer-meeting by themselves. 

“Where could we hold one?” asked 
Belle. 

“I don’t know,” replied Nellie. 

“ Why could we not hold one in Mrs. 
Brown’s barn ?” asked Katie Moore. 
“ That is away from anybody’s house, 
and away from the school ; so that no 
one would see or hear us.” 

“That’s just the place,” replied Annie 
Warner. “And, girls, I wish we could 
have a noon-day prayer-meeting, just as 
they have in New York. Why can’t we 
have one in Mrs. Brown’s barn ?” 

“ Who will pray ?” asked Annie Brayton. 
“ Shall we ask the boys ? I am afraid they 
would cut up too much. Tom Bard, Harry 
Meyer, Will, Fred and Bennie are so full 
of mischief that they couldn’t keep in and 


202 


TOM BARD. 


I don’t want this for fun. Girls, I do want 
to be better. I want to be a Christian, and 
mean to be one too.” 

believe Harry, Will, Bennie and Fred 
want to be Christians, and Tom has told 
me that he thinks he is one,” answered 
Nellie, blushing a little as she thought of 
telling what Tom had told her. “And I 
don’t believe any of them would cut up ; I 
am not so sure of the other boys.” 

“ I am afraid to have any of the boys,” 
said Belle Brayton. “ Can’t we girls pray 
alone ? I’ve been praying, and so has 
Annie, ever since that Sunday after the 
festival. We pray aloud together in our 
room.” 

“ I would like to pray, but don’t know 
what to say,” answered Annie Warner. 

“ That’s the way I feel,” suggested Lena 
Smith. “ I do try to pray something besides 
‘ Now I lay me ’ and ‘ Our Father which art 
in heaven,’ but it so hard to say what I 
wish to.” 

“ The Lord says, ‘ Open thy mouth wide, 
and I will fill it,’ ” replied Nellie Harris. 
“That means that we must come to the 


TOM’S TASTO/^. 


2 ^ 2 > 

Lord with great wants, and he will sup- 
ply them. Maybe it means that he will 
fill our mouths with words if we open them 
wide to show how empty they are — that is, 
show him how much we need, and yet how 
unable we are to tell all. God knows, and 
it does not matter so much how we show 
our wants.’* 

The girls agreed that they would not ask 
any of the boys, but would hold a prayer- 
meeting themselves at noon in the barn of 
Mrs. Brown, and let no one know anything 
about it, unless they asked Mary Robertson, 
whom they knew to be anxious to be a 
Christian. 

That noon seven girls, the oldest of them 
not yet fourteen, started out together for 
a w^alk. They took a roundabout way for 
the barn, where they began their little 
meeting. As it stood alone and far away 
from the school and from other houses, the 
girls had no fear that any one would hear 
them ; yet in their prayers their voices 
were low, and when they sang it was in 
subdued tones that none who might come 
near could hear. 


204 


TOM BARD. 


Nellie Harris took the lead. After she 
had prayed and they had sung, Belle and 
Annie Brayton prayed. They sang again, 
and then, as the four other girls waited, 
Nellie asked Mary Robertson to pray. 

“I want to,” replied Mary, “but I don’t 
know what to say.” 

“You know what you want,” said Nellie; 
“just tell the Lord that.” 

“ But I can’t put it in the right words,” 
pleaded Mary. 

“ That does not matter,” answered Belle 
Brayton. “ The Lord will know what you 
mean. God doesn’t hear prayer because 
it is in nice words, but because we want 
something and ask for it.” 

Mary led in prayer without any more 
objection. The words chosen were not the 
best, but she meant what she said. All the 
prayers and all the songs came from their 
hearts, and who will say that the singing and 
the prayers were not accepted ? Each of the 
girls prayed before they closed, and there 
were seven earnest hearts that left the old 
barn at the close of the meeting. 

School had begun when the girls reached 


TOM'S PASTOR. 


205 


the school-house, but Mr. Wyckoff only 
said, in a pleasant way, 

“You girls are late; you must not forget 
your duties here.’' 

He probably knew nothing of their meet- 
ing, but he did know that any company of 
girls with Nellie Harris in it was not likely 
to do anything very wrong. 

The next noon the girls met again, and 
so the next, being careful to return before 
school began. 

The absence of these girls each noon 
aroused the suspicion of some of the boys, 
and they watched them. On Friday noon 
a few of the wildest of the small boys, see- 
ing the girls go away, followed at a long 
distance, and, taking another course, came 
up behind the barn. Thinking that the 
girls had gone there for play, the boys, 
when near the barn, flung a volley of snow- 
balls against its side, and then rushed sud- 
denly up and began pounding against the 
boards. 

Katie Moore was praying at the time, 
but suddenly stopped; and at once the 
girls arose from their knees and tried to 


TOM BARD. 


^6 

act as though playing. The boys, looking 
through the cracks of the barn and seeing 
the girls quietly talking, concluded that 
their surprise had been a failure and went 
back to the school. 

“ It is just as we thought,” said Katie 
Moore after the boys had left ; “ they have 
found out where we are, and now will come 
here every day to disturb us. What shall 
we do? We can’t hold any more meetingfs 
here.” 

“I don’t believe they will come again 
soon,” replied Nellie. “They saw we 
didn’t take notice of them, and they 
have gone now. I don’t want to give 
up our meetings.” 

“We need not, either,” said Annie. 
“ Let us come here again each day ; and 
if those boys disturb us. I’ll tell Mr. 
Wyckoff.” 

“ Oh, we don’t want him to know that 
we come here to pray,” said Lena. 

“Well, I will come if you girls will, boys 
or no boys,” said Annie, determinedly and 
a little spitefully. 

“Let us talk to Mrs. Lawrence about it,” 


TOM’S PASTOR. 20 / 

suggested Nellie, “and ask her what to 
do.” 

“ Oh, don’t tell her,” spoke up Lena, in 
alarm ; “ she will tell Mr. Lawrence right 
away, and maybe he will stop us.” 

“Mr. Lawrence stop us?” replied Nellie, 
in surprise. “ No, indeed ; he’ll be glad 
enough to hear that we hold the meetings. 
You don’t know Mr. Lawrence as well as 
I do, Lena, if you think he would hinder 
our prayer- meetings. It is just what he 
wants, to see us try to be Christians.” 

The girls finally concluded to talk to Mrs. 
Lawrence. On Friday, after school, Nellie 
Harris and Katie Moore called at the par- 
sonage and had a pleasant talk with the 
minister’s wife. Mrs. Lawrence was de- 
lighted to hear of their prayjer- meeting and 
of their desire to be better. She offered to 
hold a little meeting with the girls each 
day after school, if they wished, in the 
parsonage ; but Katie said that she did 
not think the girls would yet dare to 
pray before Mrs. Lawrence. 

“We would rather hold our meetings 
alone for a while,” added Nellie, “and we 


208 


TOM BARD. 


want to know if you think we ought to 
have them in the barn. I don’t believe 
that the boys will trouble us any more.” 

“ There is no harm in your meeting 
there,” replied Mrs. Lawrence, “ if you 
do not take cold. I am sure Mrs. 
Brown will not care.” 

“ Oh, we wrap up well,” said Katie, “ and 
we pray with our hoods on and keep our 
shawls around us. We thought that God 
would rather we should not take cold. He 
knows we want to do as he thinks best.” 

The girls were so much interested in 
their talk with Mrs. Lawrence that they 
forgot to ask her, as they meant to do, 
not to tell the minister anything about 
their prayer-meeting. On Monday they 
met at noon in the old barn, and contin- 
ued to do so day after day all through that 
week. 

At night, after the girls had gone, Mrs. 
Lawrence told her husband of the little 
noon meeting; and the two talked for a 
long time of ways in which they might 
help the scholars of the Sabbath- school 
to find the Saviour. 


TOM^S PASTOR. 


209 


I think,” said Mr. Lawrence, finally, 
“ that I will talk the matter over with Mr. 
Freeland and the church officers, and, un- 
less they think it unwise, we will hold meet- 
ings every night next w’eek in the church.” 

After talking with some of his leading 
men and officers, Mr. Lawrence gave no- 
tice that there would be services that week 
in the church for the first three nights, and 
then, if the attendance was encouraging, for 
each night during the week. On Monday 
the attendance was large and the interest 
deep. On Tuesday, and again on Wednes- 
day, the attendance was so great that meet- 
ings were appointed for the other three even- 
ings. The Saturday-night meeting was the 
most interesting of all. 

On Thursday night Mr. Bolfon asked the 
minister, “ Why do you not tell those who 
wish to be prayed for to rise?” Others 
had asked the same question, but Mr. 
Lawrence had replied that he did not 
think any were yet ready publicly to ac- 
knowledge their desire. He now said to 
Mr. Bolton, 

“Such meetings as we are holding are 
u 


210 


TOM BARD. 


unusual here ; and I doubt if any, no 
matter how anxious they are for their 
souls, would rise before a churchful of 
people. They are not used to it.” 

“ They might hold up the hand,” persisted 
Mr. Bolton. 

“ Perhaps they might,” replied the pastor, 
“ but I doubt if they would do even that. 
The people are very timid about letting 
their feelings be known. However, be- 
fore the week is out I will ask those who 
wish to be Christians to rise, or at least to 
hold up the hand, though I fear none will ; 
and that may discourage some of you. 
For my part, I believe that several are 
now anxious, and that the number is in- 
creasing. Some of those who are, I am 
certain, seeking Christ, are among the 
most timid, and they may not dare to 
let it be known. If I ask them and 
their courage fails, they may think that 
they are doing wrong.” 

On Saturday night Mr. Lawrence, after 
delivering an address, requested any who 
wished to be prayed for to rise. He looked 
over the audience in silence. Many others 


TOM’S PASTOR. 


211 


turned and looked too. Not an individual 
arose. The request was repeated, but all 
remained seated. After waiting a while, 
Mr. Lawrence asked if any would, by 
merely raising the hand, show that they 
wished Christians to pray for them. There 
was another time of silence. It was also a 
time of sorrow and disappointment to many, 
for not a hand went up. Some of the Chris- 
tians believed that there was not an anxious 
one in the congregation. They thought that 
any one who meant to be a Christian ought 
to confess it at once in public. They did 
not think of the struggle through which 
many pass before they are able publicly 
to own Christ. 

Before he closed the meeting Mr. Law- 
rence said, 

‘‘ Perhaps there is some one here who 
would like to be prayed for, but feels un- 
able to let it be known in public. If there 
be any such, I will be glad to have you tell 
me some time alone.’' 

“So it seems our work this week has 
been for nothing,” said Mr. Bolton, at the 
close of the meeting, as he took his pas- 


212 


TOM BARD. 


tor's hand. “There wasn’t an anxious 
soul in all that audience.” 

“ I am not so sure of that,” replied Mr. 
Lawrence. 

“ If there are any, why do not they let it 
be known ?” said Mr. Bolton. “ How can 
we pray for them if we do not know who 
they are?” 

“The Lord knows,” replied the minister. 
“ Let us keep on praying and working. 
Evidendy the people are interested, and 
becoming more so. If they do not at 
once show their anxiety, we must not 
grow discouraged. The Lord is working 
with us ; let him lead and choose his own 
way. He will before long show some an- 
swers to prayer.” 

Mr. Lawrence noticed that Nellie Harris, 
Belle and Annie Brayton, Katie Moore and 
Annie Warner did not leave the room as 
soon as the rest, and from their manner 
he thought that they wished to speak with 
him. His talk with Mr. Bolton kept him 
back a little longer than usual ; so that 
Mrs. Lawrence walked on with some of 
the rest. When Mr. Lawrence had bid- 


TOM'S PASTOR. 


2t3 


den Mr. Bolton “ Good-night,” he hastened 
to overtake them. As he was hurrying 
along he came up with the girls, who 
were walking slowly. 

As he came up with them Nellie spoke 
with a trembling voice: 

“ Mr. Lawrence, did we do wrong not to 
rise, or even hold up our hands, to-night? 
All of us here wish to be Christians, and 
we are trying to find the Saviour, but we 
didn’t dare to get up in the church, and 
were afraid to hold up our hands too.” 

Gently the pastor tried to lead these lambs 
to the fold of the good Shepherd. Every 
word spoken by the minister was eagerly 
caught by the children, and glad were they 
to find that their pastor sympathized with 
their timid dread of publicity. 

As they parted from their minister at the 
parsonage gate Belle said, 

“Will you please pray for us, Mr. Law- 
rence? We are praying for ourselves; 
we mean to keep on until we are Chris- 
tians.” 

It had been a busy, anxious week for the 
pastor. He had spent much of his time in 


214 


TOM BARD. 


prayer and study for the services of the 
week, and what leisure he had was given 
to visiting his people and encouraging 
Christians to pray and work. He felt 
that more depended on the prayers of 
Christians than on himself. When the 
last meeting of the week was over, he 
was scarcely ready for the two services 
of the coming Sabbath. He had thought 
of and partly prepared a sermon for Sun- 
day morning, but, as his rule was never to 
study on Saturday night, it was left unfin- 
ished. Early Sunday morning he was in 
his study, but when the bell rang, an hour 
before service, the minister was far from 
prepared for the pulpit. He could not 
fix his mind on the subject. At last he 
left the study-table and walked the floor. 
The bell rang out its final stroke as he 
looked out of the window. 

“Only an hour left, and I am not half 
ready. What shall I do?” said the min- 
ister to himself. “ I can’t preach that ser- 
mon, and I have nothing else.” He walked 
back to the study-table again and took up 
the Bible. As he turned its leaves his eye 


TOM’S PASTOR, 


215 


caught the text, “Yet forty days and Nin- 
eveh shall be overthrown.” He saw noth- 
ing else. “Yet forty days and Nineveh 
shall be overthrown ” was before his eyes, 
rang in his ears, filled his heart. 

“ ril preach from that,” said he. 

He did preach from that text Seldom 
had he a more attentive audience. After 
the description of the doom that awaited 
Nineveh, he told of the. repentance of the 
people, and then of another and more 
awful destruction awaiting those who did 
not repent Tenderly he warned and 
urged each one to repent at once. 

During his description many faces grew 
pale, and it was evident that a deep feeling 
was taking hold of the people. Every eye 
was watching, every ear listening, every 
heart intent on what the preacher was 
saying. As he told the story of the cross 
and of a Saviour’s love the pale faces grew 
hopeful ; and a look of determination came 
over many countenances as the minister, in 
closing, invited and urged each one to give 
himself at once to the Saviour. 

“ You’ll hear from that sermon,” said 


2I6 


TOM BARD. 


Mr. Freeland as his pastor came from 
the pulpit. 

“ I tell you, Tom,” said Harry as the two 
walked home together, “ it’s settled now ; 
I’m with you from this time. I mean to 
be a Christian without any more stops.” 

“ I am glad of it, Harry,” replied Tom. 
“I hope that lots more of the boys will 
start too. If that sermon don’t reach 
them, I don’t know what will.” 

“Well, it reached me, that’s certain,” an- 
swered Harry. “I made up my mind to be 
a Christian that Sunday afternoon after the 
Christmas festival, but have kind of waited 
since. It seemed as if I wanted something 
to start me.” 

“ I’m glad Mr. Lawrence preached so,” 
said Tom. “ If he hadn’t, maybe you 
would have kept the Spirit waiting until 
he got tired and left you ; then it would 
be all up with you, Harry.” 

“I don’t see now how I could risk my 
soul in that way.” 

“ I’m glad you don’t mean to risk it any 
longer. I’m glad for your sake, and mine 
too, for I was getting a little lonely, Harry. 


TOM'S PASTOR. 


217 


It’s a good thing for a fellow to be a Chris- 
tian, but then he wants his friends with him. 
It did seem hard for me to be going toward 
heaven and to think that my best friend was 
going the other way, and that by and by Fd 
lose him for ever.” 

Tom had often spoken to Harry and 
urged him to seek Christ ; and now his 
heart was full of joy as he thought that 
Harry meant to be a Christian. 

Harry’s struggle did not last so long as 
Tom’s had done. Those little meetings 
after the Sabbath-school, and the nightly 
meetings, together with talks with the 
boys, especially Tom, helped him to see 
the way to give himself to Christ. But 
best of all were the plain, boylike talks 
of Mr. Lawrence with Harry alone, or 
with him and two or three of the other 
boys who were often invited into the pas- 
tor’s study. The Christmas festival prep- 
arations had made the boys and the girls 
so well acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Law- 
rence, and brought them into such close 
sympathy, that any of the children would 
rather talk about their souls with their 


2I8 


TOM BARD. 


minister and his wife than with any one 
else. 

One evening, before the meeting, Mr. 
Lawrence invited Harry, Tom and Will 
Harris into his study to have a talk. 
Harry had found the Saviour, but Will 
had not. When they w^ere seated, Mr. 
Lawrence said, 

“ I suppose you boys are trying to show 
Will the way ; now let us imagine that we 
are four boys together, three of us Chris- 
tians and all anxious that the fourth shall 
become one. I will try to tell Will about 
trusting in the Saviour, and Tom and 
Harry will help me.” 

“Mr. Lawrence, you do seem just like a 
boy when you talk to us,” replied Harry, 
“ for what you say is so plain that we can’t 
help understanding.” 

“Well,” began Mr. Lawrence, “trusting 
in Christ, is something like this : Tom 
and Harry tell you that there is good 
skating on the pond and ask you to go 
try it. You believe them. Your skates 
are ready; you want to skate, and you 
go with them. They say that they have 


TOM'S PASTOR. 


219 


tested the' ice and it is strong enough. 
When you come to the pond, you do 
not bother to try the ice, but take their 
word and put on your skates at once ; 
and without doubting them away you go 
for a skate. You just trust their word, 
and then trust to the ice. That’s the way 
to start as a Christian. You take our word 
for it that Jesus will save you, and you go 
to him. You believe that he will save, and 
just get right down and put on the skates 
of your religious life, trusting that Jesus, 
who is the ice, will bear you, and then you 
go ahead, trusting the Saviour all the while. 
If you tumble once in a while, you get up 
and try again. But you do not say, if you 
fall, that it was because the ice is not 
strong, but because you were not careful 
enough. So you start out again, this time 
more carefully. That is the way you must 
do in living a Christian life. If you fall, 
you must get up and start again at once, 
and be more careful, and look more to 
Christ to help you to stand.” (Will had 
said before coming into the study that he 
was afraid he would not hold out even if 


220 


TOM BARD. 


he did become a Christian.) “ Beginning 
the Christian life is much like beginning 
to skate — many troubles and bruises at 
first, but by keeping on and trusting 
more in Christ we keep gaining and do- 
ing better day by day.” 

“I don’t quite see about the start, Mr. 
Lawrence,” replied Will. “ How does a 
fellow get on the ice? That’s where my 
trouble mostly is. It seems as if the ice is 
all right, but it’s so far away from the shore 
that I can’t get to it.” 

“You must jump. Will,” said Harry — 
“ take a big jump. That is, you must go 
to Jesus and risk all as you start, and say, 
‘ Here goes ! I am jumping for that ice. 
If I miss, I’ll swim to it and then climb 
on.’ ” 

“ Maybe this will help,” suggested Tom, 
giving an inquiring look at Mr. Lawrence. 
“ In summer, when we go for a swim in the 
deep hole at the upper end of the pond, 
you know, when we are all ready, we say, 

‘ One, two, three. Here goes !’ and with- 
out asking any questions or thinking about 
anything else, we jump in head first and 


TOM'S PASTOR. 


221 


take all the risk. Now, that’s the way to 
do when you give yourself to Christ. Just 
go ahead, believing that Jesus will forgive 
and save you, that he will do all he says, 
and then let him do it. You just take all 
the risks, go ahead and give yourself to 
Jesus to be saved.” 

“ Hold on,” said Will ; “ let me think. I 
understand about the skating and the div- 
ing.” 

After the four had been silent for a few 
moments Mr. Lawrence spoke : 

“ Boys, suppose we pray the Holy Spirit 
to help Will to understand and to help him 
to give himself to the Saviour now? I will 
lead, and, Tom, you and Harry follow.” 

Tom’s heart was in his throat in a mo- 
ment, choking him so that he could scarce- 
ly speak. 

“ Mr. Lawrence,” said he, in a faltering 
voice, “I — I — If you please, you pray. 
Harry and I will pray in our hearts, but 
I’m afraid I can’t aloud when you’re by.” 

“You see, we’re not used to praying be- 
fore others,” added Harry, to show that he 
agreed with Tom. 


‘222 


TOM BARD. 


“ Very well,” said the pastor ; “ I will lead. 
You need not pray aloud now.” 

When the four arose from their knees 
after Mr. Lawrence had prayed, Will said, 
I begin to see now, Mr. Lawrence. I’ve 
got to give myself to Jesus entirely and 
take his word for it that he will save me. 
I’ve done that while you were praying. I’m 
glad that the way is so easy ; I thought it 
was awful hard. It seemed as if I saw a 
great hill before me to climb, and when I 
came to it there was nothing there : the hill 
was only a shadow.” 

“ The hill was there once. Will,” replied 
the pastor. “ Christ had to climb it for us ; 
and when he died he took all the substance 
out of the hill and left only the shadow. 
He bore our sins in his own body on the 
tree.” 

Before they left the study Mr. Lawrence 
said, 

“ Boys, you have now started. I hope 
you will be out-and-out Christians, never 
ashamed of Christ and always ready to 
work for him. Can’t you begin right 
away ?” 


TOM^S PASTOR. 


223 


“We are trying to do something/’ re- 
plied Tom, “ by telling others to seek 
Christ.” 

“ I would like to see each one of you 
boys stand by your minister. Can you 
do it?” 

“Yes, sir!” said Tom, in a strong voice. 
“A minister who stands by boys as you 
have stood by us needn’t ask me twice.” 

“ I am ready to do anything I can,” re- 
plied Harry. “ If — if it is not too hard,” he 
added, in a lower voice. 

“ Nothing right is too hard for those who 
trust in Christ,” answered Mr. Lawrence. 
“ Paul said that he could do all things 
through Christ, who strengthened him. 
Now, why cannot you boys begin to pray 
in public ?” 

“What! in the meetings in the church 
at night? I wouldn’t dare to do that,” 
answered Tom, half startled. 

“ No, not in church, but in little gather- 
ings, when only two or three of you are 
together.” 

Other boys than Will Harris and Harry 
Meyer were anxious about their souls, and 


224 


TOM BARD. 


Other girls than those who were with Nel- 
lie asked Mr. Lawrence to pray for them. 
Night after night the meetings were con- 
tinued, but each one was so quiet that, ex- 
cepting for the deep interest and close at- 
tention of the large audiences, none would 
have suspected that the most powerful re- 
vival ever known in the vicinity was bless- 
ing the church and the people of Norton- 
ville. 

When, early in March, the communion 
season came round, the church officers were 
surprised and delighted to see more than 
thirty from the Sabbath-school, besides a 
number of others, offer themselves for 
membership in the church. That was a 
joyful communion in Nortonville when the 
^ pastor took the converts by the hand and 
with a kindly word of sympathy and ad- 
vice to each one welcomed them all to the 
communion of the church. 

As Tom and Harry were walking home 
from church Tom said, 

“ Harry, it seemed to me to-day as if I 
were a young sheep that had been chased 
by dogs until tired out and almost dead. 


TOM^S PASTOR. 


225 


At last, panting and faint, I dropped down 
right at the feet of the Shepherd, who 
stooped and took me up in his arms, and 
as he hugged me to his bosom said, ‘ Poor 
sheep ! Tired of running, the dogs almost 
caught you, but you’re safe now. I’ll take 
care of you.’ ” 

“ I wonder we stayed so long away from 
the good Shepherd,” answered Harry. “We 
might have felt as happy as this for many 
years, and here we’ve missed it all.” 

“Yes,” replied Tom, “and we would 
have missed this, and all the rest too, if 
we’d had our way.” 

When Tom came home after the service 
he said, 

“ Mother, it seems as if I had never been 
so near heaven and so near father as I was 
to-day in church. It seemed as if we were 
sitting at the same table, only Jesus had told 
father to come to the upper end. If being 
a Christian didn’t do any more for us than 
just to bring us near the dear ones in heav- 
en, it would be the best thing in the world. 
But then it’s got so much more in it ! Re- 
ligion seems just made for a boy. He’s 

15 


226 


TOM BAND. 


fixed up complete when he has the Saviour 
for his friend ; but a boy who'hasn’t is poor. 
He has nothing to sell, wants to buy all the 
time, and can’t raise the first cent to do it 
with. He wants all the while, and yet can’t 
get supplied. A person who is not a Chris- 
tian is poor — very poor.” 

The revival did not stop with the com- 
munion season. The meetings were con- 
tinued for several weeks, until the people 
felt that their pastor was wearing out from 
overwork ; then it was decided to close 
them, though the interest continued and 
many gave good reason to believe that 
they had become Christians. Nor did the 
interest end with the extra meetings. That 
revival lasted and showed itself in the faith- 
ful lives of Christians as well as in the con- 
version of many to Christ. 


CHAPTER X. 


FJ^AYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 

B ill SNYDER seemed to take little 
interest in the revival beyond making 
sport of the boys for their constant attend- 
ance upon the meetings. On the way to 
and from school he was not sparing of his 
unkind remarks, and very often aimed them 
at Tom and Harry, whom he called 
“ Preacher Tom ” and “ Reverend Harry.” 
The boys bore it patiently, except when 
he said that they pretended to be better 
than other people. 

“Think yourself mighty pious, with your 
straight face,” said he to Tom one day. 
“ It’ll all wear off. Can’t tell me. You 
are just as much of a devil now, Tom 
Bard, as ever. You may humbug those 
little fellows, but you can’t come it over 
me. You and Harry are nothing but 
hypocrites.” 


227 


228 


TOM BARD. 


To be called a hypocrite, and to hear 
his best friend also called by that odious 
name, was all that Tom could bear ; and, 
had it not been for a stronger One keep- 
ing him back, he would have fought Bill. 
The angry words crowded against his 
closed lips, and his doubled fists ached 
to hit Bill ; but Tom kept silent. 

Harry, hearing Bill’s remark and seeing 
Tom’s face, quietly stepped up to him and 
said, 

“ Come, Tom ; I want to see you a min- 
ute.” 

Tom was glad to get away, and made 
no reply, though Bill called to them : 

“Now go away again to get up some 
mischief on the sly. Going to steal some- 
thing, just as like as not.” 

Tom’s angry feelings soon passed off 
when he was away from Bill. But he was 
forced to hear many such unkind words 
from him. Now that they seemed deter- 
mined not to fight or to get into any trou- 
ble, Bill tormented them all the more. He 
saw that he could do it without running 
much risk, and, contemptible coward that 


PRAYING FOP BILL SNYDER. 22g 

he was, he was mean enough to take ad- 
vantage of Tom’s Christian endurance. 

One day Tom told his mother that “ if it 
were not for Bill’s teasing it would be easy 
to be a Christian ; but, with him around, it 
is the hardest thing in the world to do 
right. He troubles Harry as much as he 
does me, only Harry don’t flare up in a 
jiffy as I do. If the fight don’t come out, 
it’s inside all the same. I wish we lived 
where Bill Snyder couldn’t come. Why 
must he trouble us fellows so, mother?” 

“ Why does the wind blow so hard 
sometimes. Tommy,” asked his mother, 
“ and shake and pull the trees so ?” 

“ I’ve heard that it makes them take 
deeper hold in the ground.” 

“ That is the reason you are tempted and 
tried by Bill. It is to make you stronger 
and to make your faith take firmer hold 
on the Saviour.” 

“If I felt that it was for that, I could 
stand it, mother,” he replied; “but it 
seems to me that Bill does it out of pure 
wickedness. I can’t help thinking that if 
the old devil were to die, and there was 


no 


TOM BARD. 


to take his place a new one who did not 
know much about the business, Bill could 
give him lots of hints.” 

“Tommy, my boy, if somebody had a 
good-natured dog that he was trying to 
make bite you, which would you rather do, 
run away, fight the dog or make him your 
friend ?” 

“ Make him my friend, mother, of course. 
That would prevent all further trouble.” 

“Well, my son, Satan may be setting 
Bill at you ; why not try to make Bill 
your friend, or rather a friend of the Sav- 
iour? That will stop all this trouble.” 

“ Mother, I don’t believe there is much 
good-natured dog about Bill ; he’s all growl 
and snarl and bite.” 

“You do not know what the grace of 
God may bring out of him, Tom,” said 
Mrs. Bard. “ Why do not you, Harry, 
and the other boys, try to win him from 
Satan’s power?” 

“Win Bill, mother?” replied Tom, in 
astonishment. “ What can we boys do 
with him? If we could win him, what 
would he be good for ?” 


PRAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 


231 


“ Tommy, Tommy !” said his mother, half 
reprovingly; “do you not think the Saviour 
can make something of Bill ?” 

“ That’s so, mother ; but I didn’t mean to 
say anything against God’s power, only it 
don’t seem to me that we boys can do 
anything.” 

“ Except pray and live as faithful Chris- 
tians yourselves,” added Mrs. Bard. 

“ I do try to live right, but it’s hard work 
when Bill is around. I do pray for him too, 
but he seems hopeless, and it’s no use.” 

“ Christ says, ‘According to your faith be 
it unto you ;’ ‘ Believe and ye shall re- 
ceive.’ ” 

“ It’s hard to believe when there is no 
chance of a thing.” 

“ Who is the stronger, Tom — God or 
Bill Snyder?” 

“God, of course.” 

“Why not, then, leave the matter with 
God, asking him to save Bill, and keep 
on praying until Bill is. a Christian?” 

“ What is a fellow going to do when he 
can’t believe?” 

“Do as the disciples did: pray, ‘I.ord, 


232 


TOM BARD. 


increase our faith.’ Let me tell you some- 
thing else to do, Tommy. You remember 
I that our Saviour said that ‘ if two of you 
shall agree on earth as touching anything 
that they shall ask, it shall be done for 
them of my Father which is in heaven.’ 
Now, why do not you and Harry agree 
to pray every day for Bill Snyder, and 
keep on praying until he is a Christian?” 

“ Fm afraid that we’ll be old men, mother, 
before that.” 

“ Don’t think so much of yourselves, 
Tom, as of the Lord doing it. You can’t 
change Bill ; that is certain.” 

After further talk Tom said, 

“Well, mother, Fll try, and Harry will 
too, Fm sure.” 

The next morning Tom and Harry met, 
as usual, on their way to school, and Tom 
told of the talk he and his mother had had. 

“Harry,” said he, “I believe we can fix 
Bill Snyder — that is, I believe the Lord 
can if we ask him. You and I have been 
fighting Bill on our own hook; let’s get 
behind the Lord and ask him to eo for 
Bill.” 


PRAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 233 

“ No use, Tom,’' replied Harry ; “ Bill is 
not one of that kind.” 

“Of course we can’t make a thousand- 
dollar gold-piece of him, but he might be 
made into a silver ten-cent piece — good 
money, too, if the Lord’s stamp is on 
him,” said Tom. 

“ Shall I tell you what I think about Bill,” 
answered Harry. “ Put all the stamps on 
him you have a mind to, and yet he’ll be 
only a piece of lead.” 

“ Now, see here, Harry : that’s the way I 
talked to mother last night, and she said that 
God is to do the work, not we. Mother is 
right ; what she doesn’t know about being a 
Christian isn’t worth knowing. I say let’s 
begin to pray for Bill.” 

“ But Bill doesn’t want to be a Christian,” 
urged Harry. 

“What of that? Can’t the Lord make 
him want to be?” answered Tom. 

After some further discussion Tom suc- 
ceeded in half convincing his friend, and 
they agreed to pray for the conversion 
of Bill Snyder. 

“ When shall we begin ?” asked Harry. 


234 


TOM BAND. 


“Now,” was answered. “Can’t begin 
too soon.” 

“Not here, in the road?” said Harry, half 
in surprise and half in opposition. “ People 
would think us crazy.” 

“ Of course I didn’t mean here, but we 
can go over into the field yonder. No- 
body will see us among those trees and 
bushes.” 

Harry yielded, and the boys were soon 
in the grove, ready to pray for their per- 
secutor. 

“You beein, Harry,” said Tom, “and I’ll 
follow.” 

Harry began praying as though he felt 
that he must; then his prayer became 
earnest, and he closed with a strong de- 
sire for the conversion of Bill Snyder. 

Tom followed, praying first, as Harry had 
done, in a low voice, but soon his feelings 
got the better of him, and he pleaded earn- 
estly and in a louder tone for the salvation 
of ’ Bill. He prayed longer, too, than he 
meant, though his prayer was short. Sud- 
denly he was startled by the voice of Bill 
Snyder calling near : 


PRAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 235 

“ Hallo ! What are you youngsters do- 
ing here ?” 

Tom came very quickly to the “Amen 
then. Both boys arose from their knees, 
as if feeling conscious that they had been 
doing wrong. 

“ What are you up to ?’^ said Bill as he 
stood near .them. “Out with it, now! 
Some mischief, I know. You pretend to 
be awful good when people are by, but 
are up to your old tricks as soon as you 
can get out of sight. You didn’t think I 
saw you fellows come. I saw Uncle Ned 
set his rabbit-traps here last night, and 
knew what you were after as soon as I 
saw you going into the bushes. You 
didn’t think I saw you go, you young 
scamps, did you, hey? Were there any 
rabbits in the traps ?” he asked, in a lower 
and half-conciliatory voice. “What were 
you up to, any way ? Out with it, Harry !” 
continued Bill, without the faintest idea of 
what the boys had been doing. “Might 
as well tell. If you don’t. I’ll let old Ned 
know, and I’ll tell the other boys and the 
teacher that you were after Ned’s traps; 


236 


TOM BARD. 


then both of you will catch it. Say, were 
there any rabbits in ?” 

“We didn’t come after rabbits,” replied 
Harry ; “ didn’t know there were any traps 
here.” 

“Now, see here, boys: you might as 
well tell,” said Bill. “ I mean to find out, 
or rii_rii— ” 

“We were not in any mischief at all. 
Bill,” spoke Tom. 

“We were praying,” added Harry. 

“ ‘ Praying ’ !” said Bill, in astonishment. 
“What were you praying here for? Did 
you forget to say your prayers this morn- 
ing?” 

By this time Tom had got over his con- 
fusion, and felt that, since he had per- 
suaded Harry to come with him to pray, 
he must bear whatever blame there might 
be; but at the same time Tom felt anx- 
ious to say something to Bill about his 
soul. 

“ Say, Bill,” said he, “ supposing a fellow’s 
found something good ; ought he to keep it 
all to himself or let another one have a 
share ?” 


F /LAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 237 

“ Oh, that’s the way, is it ?” was the reply. 
“You’ve found something, have you, and 
hid it 'way off here to keep the other fel- 
lows from seeing? Well, I’ve caught you 
at it. Might as well let me see. What is 
it, Tom ? Come, out with it !” 

“Well, Bill, Harry and I and some other 
boys have found something first rate — some- 
thing worth having.” 

“ What is it ? Can’t you tell ? What’s 
the matter with you ?” asked Bill as Tom 
stopped, hardly knowing how to go on. 

“We’ve found the Saviour, and we 
want you to find him too,” Tom burst 
out, bluntly. 

Now that he had begun to speak, Tom 
was not at loss for words, and he con- 
tinued : 

“ Bill, we want you to be a Christian, and 
that’s what Harry and I came here to pray 
for. We were praying for you, and we do 
want to see you a Christian.” 

The large boy stood still and silent, look- 
ing first at one, then at the other. Tom, 
fearing that he would be offended, began 
again : 


238 


TOM BARD. 


“Bill, I haven’t treated you just right; 
I’m sorry for it. I’ve said hard things to 
you, and thrown stones at you, and wished 
you bad luck. I hope you will forgive me. 
I have been trying to do better, but it is 
hard work. It is easier, though, than it 
was at first. I wish you would try to live 
as a Christian too, and help us do better. — 
Don’t you, Harry ?” 

Bill made no reply, but seemed to be half 
stupefied and unable to understand. 

“ I am sorry too. Bill, for what I have 
done,” said Harry, “and am trying to be 
better; and the Lord is helping us both. 
I wish you would let him help you. Bill, 
it pays to be a Christian ; it makes a fel- 
low feel better every way. That’s what 
we were praying for when you came.” 

“ Praying for me !” spoke Bill at length 
to himself. “ Can’t understand it ;” and then 
he looked sharply at Harry and asked, 
“ What were you praying for me for ? 
Who told you to do it?” 

“ Tom and I have often talked about be- 
ing Christians, and we found it very hard 
to live aright because we had so many 


FJ^A YING FOR BILL SNYDER. 239 

temptations, and we felt it was hard be- 
cause you teased us; so this morning Tom 
asked me to come over here and pray with 
him for you that you might be a Chris- 
tian.” 

“ Is that so, Tom ?” asked Bill. “ Were 
you boys praying for me ?” 

“Yes,” replied Tom; “we want to see 
you a Christian, not only to help us, but 
because it will make you a great deal hap- 
pier.” 

“ Humph !” said Bill as he turned around 
to leave; “praying for me, and yet they 
didn’t want me to know it ! Can’t see 
why ;” and he walked slowly away, and 
Tom and Harry followed at a distance. 

Bill was very quiet that day at school ; 
none of the boys were annoyed by him. 
At noon he kept away from the rest and 
made an excuse for going home at the 
afternoon recess. The next day, and the 
next. Bill was still very quiet. Tom and 
Harry could not understand it. He did 
not show any anger, yet they thought that 
he was not pleased because they had pray- 
ed for him. 


240 TOM BARD. 

A few days after, Bill overtook the two 
boys going to school, and, reaching out a 
large apple to each one, said, 

“ Here, Tom and Harry : have an ap- 
ple ?” Then, with a great effort, he asked, 

“ Do you boys pray any more ? I mean, 
do you pray for other fellows ? That is, 
do you pray — pray — pray for — me any — 
more ? If you do, just don’t stop, for I 
need it. I’m awful.” 

The big tears started to Bill’s eyes, his 
voice choked, and without saying a word 
more he hurried on past them to school. 

There had been another listener to the 
prayer of Tom and Harry. Uncle Ned had 
seen the boys going across the field, and 
hurried along expecting to catch them 
disturbing his traps, which he had set 
early in the morning. 

“ Can’t be dat dem boys would ’sturb 
traps,” said he to himself when he saw who 
they were. “Dey’s church-members. Yit, 
ef dey wus cullud folks, I don’t feel quite 
sure eben den. Cullud folks got ter hab 
mighty lot ob grace when de debbil put 
rabbit or chicken under dere noses, or 


PRAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 24 1 

dey’ll just go fer de rabbit or chicken. 
Know how ’tis myself. Got ter do lots 
ob prayin’ ’fore I see de game to be sure 
I can look at it an’ den say, 'Git behind 
me, Satan.’ De debbil’s got lots of tings 
to temp folks with. He knows what ter 
use, too. Some white folks are gone ’t 
once when he hold liquor ’fore dem ; 
oders kin laugh at dat, an! den hab no 
trouble to say, ' Git behind me, Satan,’ to 
glass ob drink ; but when he come wid 
money, dey say nothin’ ’bout ’hind me : dey 
jist show Satan where dere pocket is.” 

Talking to himself in a low voice as he 
hurried along, the old man kept his eyes on 
the boys, but tried to prevent himself being 
seen. Perhaps Tom and Harry would have 
discovered him had they not been so intent 
on the object for which they came to the 
woods. When Uncle Ned came near 
enough to see his traps, he stopped and, 
partly hidden behind some bushes, watched 
the two boys. He could not understand 
their actions, but as he heard the voice of 
Harry the old man crept up closer to the 
boys until near enough to understand what 
16 


242 rOM BARD. 

was said. When he heard Harry praying 
for Bill Snyder, Uncle Ned clasped his 
hands and said in a low voice, 

“Well, well ! Ef dem boys ain’t prayin’ ! 
Ef dey don’t mean it, den I’d like ter know 
who does ? Dey’s prayin’ fer dat Bill Sny- 
der too, sure’s I’m horned. He needs it, 
fer he’s de wussest one ’round.” 

When Tom began to plead for Bill, Un- 
cle Ned was more astonished than ever. 

“Now, ef dat ain’t ’ligion,” said he, “den 
I don’t know what ’ligion is. Dere’s Tom 
Bard, who used to be one ob de wussest 
little imps in de place, prayin’ fer de wus- 
sest big imp dat eber breaved. I’m glad 
dat de good Lord gits boys like Tom Bard 
prayin’. But den dat’s jist like de Lord ; 
he takes some ob de wussest. Dat’s what 
he did when he took ole Ned. He’s a good 
Lord. Wish I was better, but he knows I 
wants ter be. See yere ; dey’s prayin’ fer 
Bill Snyder, so dat dey kin be better. Why 
don’t I pray fer some folks? Maybe it 
would help me too. But dis ain’t de place 
fer me. Needn’t watch my traps when dem 
boys ’round.” 


YING FOR BILL SNYDER. 243 

Uncle Ned turned and went home with- 
out noticing Bill Snyder’s approach, and on 
reaching home told Aunt Betty what he had 
seen and heard. 

“ Dat’s notin’ strange,” said she ; “ dem 
boys got folks at home prayin’ fer dem. 
Dose dat hab fr’ens prayin’ fer ’em ’t home 
will be more’n likely ter pray fer somebody 
’way from home byome by.” 

“Well,” replied he, “I to’t an’ said dat 
dem boys wouldn’t hold out ; but when 
dey goes off an’ prays fer a boy like dat 
Bill Snyder, ’ligion’s got a deep hold on 
dem.” 

“ Yes, an’ it won’t let go dat hold, eider,” 
said Aunt Betty. “ When folks goes arter 
de debbil’s own, dat skeers him away from 
dem an’ makes him ’fraid he’s gwine ter 
lose some more; so he jist let eberyting 
else go ter keep dem he’s got already.” 

Tom and Harry were surprised and de- 
lighted to know that their prayers had been 
answered so soon. They tried to get a 
chance to talk to Bill, but he kept away 
from them as well as from the rest of the 
school. Each one noticed the change in 


244 


TOM BARD. 


Bill, and the children often talked of it ; 
yet none dared talk to Bill. 

One morning, as he was walking alone to 
school, he noticed Tom and Harry behind 
him. He walked slowly until they came 
up, and then burst out with, 

‘‘Torn and Harry, what’s a fellow going 
to do when he finds his sins troubling him 
until he can’t think of anything else? I 
can’t sleep ; I can’t work ; I can’t play ; I 
can’t do anything. I don’t know what to 
do. Would you boys pray for me again? 
Would you be willing to go over where 
you prayed before and pray for me when 
I am along ? Something’s got to be 
done.” 

Gladly the two friends agreed to go at 
once to the grove, trying on the way to 
explain to Bill the way to be saved. 

“ ’Tain’t that so much,” said Bill — “ that I 
want to know how; my great trouble is 
I’m not worth having anything done for 
me. I’ve often wondered why you fellows 
prayed for me.” 

As the two boys knelt in prayer Tom 
began to plead for Bill, and was followed 


PRAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 245 

by Harry. In his prayer Harry pleaded 
that Bill might come to the Saviour for 
life, and that Jesus might not be forced to 
say of him, as he did of the Jews, ** Ye will 
not come unto me that ye might have life.'' 

The words struck Bill with great force. 

“ Did the Saviour say that of the Jews ?" 
asked he, in a low voice, of Tom. 

“ Yes," was the reply. “ Is that what you 
are doing, Bill ?" 

The question showed Bill his trouble. 

When Harry had ended. Bill said, 

‘‘Harry, I didn’t mean to talk while you 
were praying, but I couldn’t help asking 
Tom if the Saviour really said that the 
Jews wouldn’t come to him to have life. 
I believe that is what’s the matter with 
me ; I’ve been thinking about my sins until 
they are so black and heavy that they are 
about killing me, and yet I wouldn’t go to 
the Saviour for life. But will he save such 
a fellow as me? You boys don’t know how 
bad I am." 

“ Of course he’ll save you," replied Harry. 
“ The Bible says that he is able to save to the 
uttermost all who come to him.” 


246 


TOM BARD. 


“ But I’ve been poking fun at religion, 
and poking fun at you fellows, and calling 
you hypocrites and everything bad.” 

“ I don’t believe you’ve been worse than 
Paul,” said Tom, “and Jesus saved him. 
You know Paul says, ‘It is a faithful say- 
ing, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save 
sinners, of whom I am chief.’ Now, if 
Jesus saved the chief, I guess he’ll save 
the one who is next to the chief too, even 
though it’s Bill Snyder or Tom Bard.” 

“Just go to him, Bill, bad as you feel 
yourself to be,” spoke Harry. “The Bible 
says, ‘The blood of Jesus Christ his Son 
cleanseth us from all sin.’ ” 

“ That’s so, that’s so !” replied Bill. 
“ Why didn’t I think of that before ? 
That means Bill Snyder’s sins too. Yes, 
all sin. I can’t get around that ; I can’t 
get outside of it. That text reaches even 
to my worst sins. Say, boys, I see it all 
now. Let’s pray again. I’ll pray now.” 

Humbly, tenderly, with broken words. 
Bill laid his case before the Lord, and 
left it there. 


PRAYING FOR BILL SNYDER. 247 

When the three rose from their knees, 
the happiest of them was Bill Snyder; his 
load was gone. 

“Boys,” said he, “when I came here, it 
seemed as if I was down and an awful 
mountain was piled on top of me ; now 
it seems as if the world had turned over 
and piled me on the top of the mountain. 
Jesus has done just what he said he would: 
he has saved Bill Snyder. Now, boys, who 
shall we go for ? I tell you this is too good 
to keep to ourselves.” 

“ I think we’d better go to school, for one 
thing,” answered Tom, “or it will be in. 
Now, as Bill has found the Saviour, we 
can go with happy hearts.” 

Bill did not keep his conversion a secret. 
He might blunder about it ; but if there 
was one thing that he believed, it was that 
the awful sins of the good-for-nothing Bill 
Snyder had been forgiven, and this for no 
other reason than because Jesus could love 
such a one as he. 

“ Dey say dat Bill Snyder’s got ’ligion 
too,” said Aunt Betty as she came home 
one day from washing. 


2/}.3 


TOM BARD. 


“Don’ doubt it,” replied Uncle Ned; 
“he couldn’t help it. When dem boys 
got de Lord arter Bill Snyder, he’d got 
to gib in. When de Lord come, de debbil 
just got ter go. Guess de debbil feel sor- 
ry now dat he said to Bill Snyder, ‘Seek 
’em !’ when dem boys went off to pray. 
Didn’t tink dat his wolf would be turned 
to a sheep by goin’ after dem. Debbil 
tinks he’s mighty smart sometimes ; starts 
out head and tail up, feelin’ as proud as 
any ting, but he comes home often wid his 
tail ’tween his legs and his head hangin’ 
down as dough an elephant had sot on 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE BOVS* FBAYER-MEETING. 



HORTLY after the close of the night- 


wZy ly meetings, several of the boys who 
had united with the church talked about 
holding a prayer-meeting of their own. 
Mr. Lawrence had suggested it, that thus 
they might become used to praying and 
speaking before others. 

“I believe that Mr. Lawrence is right,’" 
said Harry as they were talking the mat- 
ter over one noon at school. “He wants* 
us to help him as soon as we are able ; and 
besides, he says that it will make us better 
and stronger Christians. You know he 
says that every Christian should have 
something to do in the church, and he 
thinks this part of our work.” 

“ I am willing to do what Mr. Lawrence 
says, if I can,” replied Will Harris ; “ though 
I don’t see why we boys should hold meet- 


249 


250 


TOM BARD. 


ings and pray and speak, when hardly any 
of the old people in the church ever pray, 
much less speak, in public.” 

“ Mr. Lawrence is our teacher, boys,” 
spoke James Hull, “ and we must do as 
the teacher says. If we don’t know what 
good we will get out of a lesson, he does ; 
so it is our business to get it. I am ready 
for the lesson.” 

“Jim is right,” said Harry. — “Jim, if you 
can say wise things, why don’t you say them 
oftener ?” 

“ I say all that I think of,” replied James, 
who was a very quiet boy. 

“Boys,” said Alvin Brayton, “I don’t see 
any need for our praying in public. My 
father doesn’t. He is a Christian, and has 
been a church-member for many years. If 
he doesn’t think that he ought to pray or 
speak in meetings, I do not see why his son 
should.” 

“ How do you know that he doesn’t 
think he ought to do it?” asked Tom. 
“ Did he ever say so ?” 

“ N — no,” replied Alvin, “ but he generally 
does what he ought ; and, since he doesn’t 


THE BOYS^ PRAYER-MEETING. 2$ I 

do this, I believe he thinks it is not his 
duty.” 

“ Do you suppose that people always do 
what they think it is their duty to do ?” in- 
quired Harry. 

“No, of course not; but I think that 
Christians do so — at least, they should,” 
replied Alvin. 

“ Have you always done your duty since 
you became a Christian, Alvin?” asked Will 
Harris. 

“No, I haven’t; I wish I could do it only 
half the time,” was the reply. 

“Well, boys, my father prayed and spoke 
in prayer-meeting when he was alive, and 
he thought it his duty,” said Tom, in a low 
voice ; and then he added, in a stronger 
tone, “And his son means to do as he 
did ; but if he hadn’t, I mean to. Mr. 
Lawrence asked us to begin a prayer- 
meeting and said it would make us better 
Christians. I believe him, and mean to do 
as he says.” 

“ Do as you like,” replied Alvin, “ but I 
mean to wait and see whether it makes 
you better.” 


2$2 


TOM BARD. 


“Al, it doesn’t seem to me that you look 
at it in the right way,” continued Tom. “ I 
think the church is a company of soldiers 
and the minister is the captain. What he 
orders we must do. It would be a queer 
company if each one was captain.” 

“ That’s about the way it has been in the 
Nortonville church,” said Will. 

“Yes, and they didn’t do much fighting, 
either,” added Harry. “They hardly held 
their own until Mr. Lawrence took com- 
mand. There were few members added, 
and the people were always talking about 
debt, father says ; but now, since Mr. Law- 
rence came, there are many more joining 
the church and the debt is growing less, 
and — Well, the company, as Tom calls 
it, has a good captain, and things ^re go- 
ing ahead.” 

“ They’ll go ahead more yet,” spoke Tom, 
“if each one will obey orders and do his 
duty. When we had our company, all 
things went well if each one obeyed; but 
when each one took his own way, you 
know we didn’t do anything. I go for 
obeying my captain.” 


THE BOYS' PRAYER-MEETING. 253 

They finally agreed to begin a meeting. 
Then came the consideration as to where 
it should be held. 

“Why couldn’t we hold one at Widow 
Ball’s ?” asked Tom. “ She lives away 
from the village and can’t come to meet- 
ing much, and Alf and Ned haven’t been 
hardly any to the meetings. It might do 
them good, and I am sure Mrs. Ball would 
like a meeting.” 

“That’s just the place,” said Bennie. 
“ The boys wouldn’t trouble us there, 
and I don’t believe any of us will be 
afraid to pray before her. But who will 
ask her?” 

“ Let Tom and Harry,” suggested Will. 

It was soon settled that Tom and Harry 
should ask Mrs. Ball for permission to hold 
one meeting at her house. 

“ Whom shall we ask to come ?” inquired 
Bennie. “ I don’t want all the boys, I tell 
you that.” 

“ No ; let’s ask only church-members,” 
suggested James Hull. 

“Won’t you ask Bill Snyder?” inquired 
Harry. “You know he is changed, and I 


254 tom bard. 

believe he is a Christian. If ever a fellow 
was in earnest, Bill is.’' 

“ Of course we’ll ask him,” said Tom. 

“ How about the girls ?” asked Bennie, 
with a wink at Will Harris. “Won’t 
count them out, will you, Tom ?” 

Bennie liked to tease Tom about Nellie 
Harris, and he and Will had many a good- 
natured but sly remark to make to Tom or 
to Nellie. 

“ No, we don’t want any of the girls,” 
replied James Hull. “They’ll be as bad 
as the grown people. Let us have a 
meeting just for boys.” 

“ I’d like to have Fred De Hart and Ed 
Barton,” said Bennie, “ even if they are not 
church-members. I believe they wish to be 
Christians.” 

“ I don’t object to Ed and Fred,” replied 
Tom, “ but don’t let us get the other boys ; 
they’ll only make fun of us. Fred and Ed 
are not of that kind.” 

The two boys were called, and Bennie 
was looked to by the others to ask the 
question ; so he began : 

“ Say, Fred and Ed, we fellows mean to 


THE BOVS' PRAYER-MEETING. 255 

begin a boys’ prayer-meeting, and want you 
to help. What do you say ? Will you ?” 

“ ‘ Help ’ !” replied Fred. “ We don’t be- 
long to the church, as you do ; how can we? 
More than that,” he added, sadly, '‘I’m afraid 
that we are not real Christians.” 

“ Even if you are not, you would rather 
work for God than for Satan, wouldn’t 
you ?” asked Tom. 

“ Of course I would,” was Fred’s reply. 
“But — but what can we do?” 

“You can come,” answered Harry; 
“ that’ll help.” 

“Then you can sing,” suggested Bennie, 
“and I know that Ed sings first rate. You 
do too, Fred.” 

“Yes, I sing, and I am willing to come 
and sing,” replied Ed. “If you won’t ask 
me to pray. I’ll come.” 

“I’ll go if Ed does,” said Fred — “that 
is, if you w^on’t ask us to do anything but 
help in the singing.” 

Mrs Ball was rather surprised at the 
request of the boys, but, having heard a 
great deal about the revival — though, be- 
cause of lameness, unable to attend the 


256 


TOM BARD. 


meetings — she was glad to have the boys 
hold the meeting in her home. Mrs. Ball 
lived more than a mile from Nortonville, 
away from the road, in a small house that 
was shut in from sight by the woods. 

On the appointed night Bennie Moore, 
Harry Meyer, Will Harris, Bill Snyder, 
James Hull, Fred De Hart and Ed Bar- 
ton met at the gate of Mrs. Bard’s yard, 
and were joined by Tom, who had told his 
mother where they were going. Each boy 
carried a hymn-book in his pocket, and 
a tallow candle wrapped in paper in his 
hand. They had agreed that it would 
not be fair to have Mrs. Ball furnish light 
as well as room. Each laughed as he saw 
the other with a candle. 

“We’ll have light enough, I think,” said 
Harry, “if we burn all these. Just as j 
likely as not, Tom has half a dozen more 
in his pocket, if his mother knows about 
our going to Mrs. Ball’s.” 

“She did tell me to take two or three j 
more,” replied Tom, “for fear that you 
might forget ; but I said you wouldn’t, for 
we all mean business.” 


THE BOYS^ PRAYER-MEETING. 257 


“ Maybe Mrs. Ball will want another 
meeting,” said Bennie ; then we can 
leave these with her.” 

It was a cheerful party that left Norton- 
ville for the lonely home of Mrs. Ball. 
Bennie Moore could not help proposing 
a game of leap-frog as they went along; 
and when no one joined him, he under- 
took walking on the top of a fence. 

“ Ben thinks he is going to a frolic,” 
said Harry. 

“It isn’t that,” replied Bennie, jumping 
down from the fence ; “ I just feel lively, 
and can’t help it. If I were to shut it all 
in, I’d burst; and a burst boy is about as 
bad as a burst boiler. I think some boys 
are made full of steam to keep things 
moving.” 

“ But then they need an engineer to take 
charge of them,” replied James Hull, “or 
they make more trouble than a locomotive 
running away with a full head of steam 
on.” 

“You’re right, Jim,” answered Bennie. 
“ I do want the great Chief Engineer to 
keep charge of me all the time.” 

17 


TOM BATD. 


^58 

“Say, boys, who’ll lead' the meeting?” 
asked Tom. 

“ Oh, you lead ; you started the idea,” 
was answered by several. 

• “Fm willing,” replied Tom ; “only I don’t 
want to be ahead in everything. But who 
will lead the singing? I can start ‘Orton- 
ville,’ and that is the only tune I can start. 
It is common metre — I know that much — 
and common-metre hymns will go on it, but 
long-metre ones will not. I know that ; I 
have tried.” 

“I can’t lead the singing,” said Bennie. 
“I know ‘Yankee Doodle,’ ‘Hail, Colum- 
bia!’ ‘Swanee River’ and lots of that kind, 
but I don’t know hymn-tunes well enough 
to lead the rest of you. Haven’t sung 
those enough yet to know them. But 
Harry can sing. — Why can’t you start, 
Harry?” 

“I know only two or three tunes well 
enough to lead,” replied Harry, “ but don’t 
know what metres they are.” 

“Bill, can’t you sing?” inquired Will 
Harris of Bill Snyder, who had been very 
quiet. 


THE BOyS’ PRAYER-MEETING. 2^9 

“ 1 sing ?” said he. “ I can’t sing any 
more than a turkey. I wish I could; I 
want to do something.” 

“ Say, Tom, must we stand up or kneel 
down when we pray?” questioned Will 
Harris. 

Let’s kneel,” suggested Harry. 

“ Boys,” said Bill, “ I mean to try to pray 
to-night. You mustn’t laugh if I don’t do 
it right ; I mean to do the best I can.” 

“I guess none of us will beat Mr. Law- 
rence,” said Bennie. “ But what’s the use 
of being afraid of one another? We don’t 
mind if we make mistakes before others 
when we play ; why should we when we 
are in prayer-meeting?” 

When they reached Mrs. Ball’s, her little 
sitting-room was lighted. The stand stood 
in the middle of the floor; on it were a 
Bible and a hymn-book ; a lamp and two 
candles were burning, and a polished 
snuffer lay on one of the candlesticks. 
On each end of the mantel stood an- 
other candle ready to be lighted. The 
chairs were arranged around the room, 
a wood-fire was burning briskly, and 


2.60 


TOM BARD. 


everything was as cozy as one could wish. 
Ned and Alf were in their best clothes, 
and Mrs. Ball wore her best dress ; so 
that, as Bill Snyder suggested afterward, 
“everything seemed ready for church, but 
there was nothing but a lot of boys to hold 
meeting.” 

The boys hardly knew what to do with 
their candles when they saw the room 
lighted up. Harry offered his to Mrs. 
Ball, but she refused it, saying, 

“Did you boys think we wouldn’t have 
light enough here?” 

“ No, ma’am,” replied Harry, “ but we 
thought it wouldn’t be fair to have you 
give us room and everything; so we 
thought we would bring some candles.” 

“ Maybe the meeting will be so good,” 
suggested Bennie, “ that you will want to 
repeat it ; so you had better keep the can- 
dles for the next time.” 

“We’ll see how good it is,” replied Mrs. 
Ball, quietly; “but you needn’t bring can- 
dles. If the meeting is good enough to 
have over again. I’ll be glad to give the 
light.” 


THE BOYS^ PRAYER-MEETING. 26 1 

Some of the boys put their candles in 
their pockets, and one or two laid them 
down beside their hats ; while Bill Snyder 
put his within his hat, which was placed on 
the mantel, where it was very warm. Alf 
Ball sat near the stove. He had been 
told by his mother to see that the fire 
was kept up; so he, not having anything 
else to do, kept the fire roaring at its hot- 
test during the meeting, and the boys, being 
timid, said nothing about the heat, but pfer- 
spired and patiently bore it, until, toward the 
latter part of the meeting, Harry motioned 
to Alf not to put in any more wood. 

Soon after being seated, Tom said, 

“ I suppose we might as well begin.” 

, Moving -his chair beside the stand and 
j taking up the hymn-book, he asked, with 
j an inquiring look toward Harry, 

“ Now, who’s going to lead the singing?’* 
“ I’ve been trying to think of the tunes I 
know,” replied Harry, “ but can’t remember 
their names, or the metres either.” 

“ Boys,” said Ed Barton, if you can 
:he hymns, Fred and I will help 



I know ‘Coronation,’ ‘Rock of 


262 


TOM BARD. 


Ages/ ‘Old Hundred’ and three or four 
other tunes; so does Fred. We tried 
them over before we came to-night.” 

“Yes,” added Fred; “we want to do 
something to help. We wish we could 
pray, but we can’t do that. Ed and I 
both want to be Christians. We didn’t 
know about each other’s wish, though, 
until you asked us to come to the meet- 
ing.” 

“ That’s so,” spoke Ed. — “And, boys, 
won’t you pray for Fred and me to- 
night ?” 

Ed’s request touched the hearts of the 
boys ; and Harry’s hand reached out soft- 
ly for Ed’s, and he gave it a warm grasp 
and whispered, 

“ I’m so glad, Ed !” 

“ Some of us have been praying for you 
already,” replied Tom, with tears in his 
eyes, “ but we didn’t think the Lord would 
hear us so soon. We’ll begin our meeting 
now,” he added. “ Let us pray.” 

Tom kneeled, with the other boys around, 
him. His voice trembled as he began. He 
took hold of the little stand with both hands. 


THE BOYS' PRAYER-MEETING. 263 

for fear he might fall over. It was his first 
attempt at prayer before so many, and for a 
moment he hardly knew what to say ; but 
when Ed’s request came to his mind, he 
found words and poured out his heart in 
prayer for his two schoolmates. As the 
boys arose from their knees each one tried 
to turn his face from the light to hide the 
tears. Tom then gave out the hymn, “All 
hail the power of Jesus’ name.” Ed started, 
and every boy joined in ; even Bill Snyder 
seemed to forget that he could not sing. 
The singing may not have been very melo- 
dious, but the boys enjoyed it, and no doubt 
it pleased God, for it came from the heart. 
After the hymn a chapter was read ; then 
Harry prayed ; then another hymn was 
sung, after which Tom said,' 

“ Now, boys, just take hold as if it were 
a game of ball and each one meant to 
do his very best and get the most good 
out of it.” 

“ Boys, I was thinking,” began Bennie, 
taking a paper from his pocket, “ that, as I 
can’t make a talk, maybe I can read some- 
thing about taking up the cross ; for, you 


264 


TOM BARD. 


see, this praying before others is a heavy 
cross. This little piece in the paper has 
helped me, and it may help some one else 
here. It seems that the Saviour has made 
cross-bearing the sign to show that we be- 
long to him. Now, if we don’t hold up 
that sign, how can folks know to which 
side we belong?” He then read the 
story, and when it was finished said, “I 
am going to take up my cross now. Let 
us pray.” 

Bennie’s prayer was like himself — boy all 
through and through — but there was some- 
thing in it that showed that Christ was in 
the boy. Full of fun, Bennie could hardly 
keep serious at any other time ; yet his 
prayer was so solemn and so earnest that 
to hear it one would not have thought that 
Bennie Moore was one of the greatest mis- 
chief-makers of Nortonville. 

When the prayer was ended, Tom said, 
“ Let us sing something now,” and gave 
out “Alas ! and did my Saviour bleed ?” 
starting the singing himself to the tune 
of “ Ortonville.” He commenced nearly 
an octave too high, and when he reached 


THE BOYS' PRAYER-MEETING. 265 

the higher notes of the tune most of the 
boys were unable to sing ; but Tom kept 
on. The last part of the third and the 
whole of the fourth line he sang alone, 
though the others joined in when the 
fourth line was repeated. After the first 
verse, Bennie said, with a comical look, 

“ That’s rather high, ain’t it, Tom ?” 
“About as high as I could get,” replied 
Tom, good-naturedly. 

“You started too high,” said Ed. “Let’s 
try the next verse and begin lower.” 

Tom had got a little used to hearing his 
own voice in singing, and started again on 
a lower key ; and all sang. When the sec- 
ond verse was finished. Bill asked, 

“ Can’t we sing the whole hymn, Tom — 
at least, the last verse, about ‘ Here, Lord, 
I give myself away; ’Tis all that I can do’?” 

The whole hymn was sung, Bill leading 
in the last verse. It is true he did not 
lead quite as the tune went, though it 
was as his heart went. None of the 
boys smiled at Bill’s discords ; all were 
too much in earnest, and each one knew 
that Bill meant what he sang. 


266 


TOM BARD, 


When the last verse was done, Will Har- 
ris said, 

“ I wish there were more verses ; that 
kind of singing does a fellow good.” 

After the singing Bill Snyder prayed, 
and, though he made mistakes, he kept 
on as if not at .all afraid, and when he 
finished said to himself, but loud enough 
to be heard by the others, 

“ How good the Lord is to let such a fel- 
low as me pray in a meeting with Christians! 
— Can’t we sing something more ?” he asked 
when all were seated. 

“ I don’t know any more tunes,” replied 
Tom. 

“And I can’t think of any, either,” said 
Harry. “I mean to try to think of tunes, 
and learn them too, after this.” 

“ Shall we sing ‘ Rock of Ages ’ ?” asked 
Fred. “Ed and I know that; we sang it 
together before we came.” 

“Yes, that’s just the thing,” replied Tom. 

Fred started the tune, accompanied by 
Ed’s voice. Bill Snyder tried to sing the 
first line, but stopped when he noticed 
that the others were silent. Why they 


THE BO YS' PRA YER-MEE TING. 26 / 

did not sing probably they could not 
have told; and the two, with trembling 
voices, sang that prayer of the sinner. 
Fred and Ed were good singers, yet it 
was not the beauty of their voices, but 
the feeling with which they sang, that im- 
pressed itself on the others. 

When the hymn was ended, Ed asked, 

“ Is singing ever praying ? for if it is, 
then ‘Rock of Ages’ is just the prayer I 
want to offer. — Does the Lord hear it, do 
you think, Tom?” 

“Yes, he does,” was the reply, “if we 
mean it. Singing is often prayer. — Don’t 
you think so, Harry?” 

“ Yes,” answered Harry; “I try to pray 
the words while I am singing.” 

“It’s a nice, easy way of praying,” said 
Bennie. 

Mrs. Ball sat quietly listening during the 
meeting. She was greatly surprised to hear 
such prayers from those whom she had al- 
ways regarded as wild, thoughtless and mis- 
chievous boys. She was not exactly pleased 
with the lack of formality, and at times 
thought the boys irreverent; but gradually 


268 


TOM BARD. 


her warm, motherly Christian heart en- 
tered into the spirit of the meeting, and 
before it ended she was delighted. 

Ned and Alf had been to very few of the 
weekday meetings in the church. They did 
not go with the children to and from school, 
and usually went home for their dinner ; so 
they knew but little of the change that had 
come over the boys. During the meeting 
they sat looking at each other or at the 
boys, and hardly understood the meaning 
of the services. Though they had heard 
of the revival, they had taken no special 
interest in it ; nor did they care to become 
Christians. Their mother had taught them 
that they must be good while boys and be- 
come Christians when they grew up, but 
further than that they had thought little 
about seeking Christ as their own Sav- 
iour. When they heard Bill Snyder pray, 
they were astonished ; and when Fred and 
Ed sang “ Rock of Ages,” their astonish- 
ment changed to another feeling, telling 
that the hymn had a deeper meaning 
to them than any they had ever heard 
before. 


THE BOYS' FRA YE MEETING. 269 

Quickly the hour passed ; and hardly had 
the last of the boys prayed when closing- 
time came, and Tom arose and asked, 

“ Shall we close by singing ‘ Praise God, 
from whom all blessings flow ’ ? — Ed, will 
you start ?” 

It was a grand doxology, sung by those 
boy-voices, and Bill asked, 

“Ain’t there more verses we can sing?” 

“ No ; doxologies have only one verse,” 
replied Harry. 

After the meeting the boys talked about 
the place for holding the next one. Alf in 
a low tone asked his mother, 

“ Can’t they have it here, mother ?” 

“ Of course they can,” replied Mrs. Ball 
aloud. — “ Can’t you have a meeting here 
again next week, boys?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Tom and Harry, 
“ if you want it.” 

So it was decided to hold another meet- 
ing at Mrs. Ball’s the next week. 

“Now, see here, Mrs. Ball,” spoke Ben- 
nie as he laid his candle on the stand : “ if 
we hold meetings here, you must keep this 
candle.” 


TOM BARD. 


2;o 

“It would be strange,’’ she replied, “if I 
could not do so much as to furnish a can- 
dle or two, when you boys are kind enough 
to come all this distance to hold such a 
meeting as we have had. It has done me 
more good than many a sermon. I do not 
often have the chance any more to hear 
others pray.” 

The boys insisted that she should keep 
the candles they had brought ; and when 
Bill Snyder reached for his hat to give his 
candle, he was surprised to find the candle 
and the hat on very intimate terms. 

“See here,” said he; “ my candle wants 
to stay in my hat.” 

“ Oh, that’s too bad,” said Mrs. Ball. 
“ Let me have it ; I’ll try to take the grease 
out and at once she busied herself in 
removing the tallow, but Bill’s hat was 
spoiled. 

“ Oh,” said he, “ no matter what my 
head wears now ; there’s something bet- 
ter come inside.” 

Meeting after meeting was held at Mrs. 
Ball’s. Soon the voices of Ed Barton and 
Fred De Hart, and after a while that of 


THE BOYS' PRAYER-MEETING. 2/1 

Alf, and later Ned Ball’s, were heard in 
prayer. In a few weeks after the first meet- 
ing other boys were invited, and often the 
little room was crowded. The meetings 
were continued all summer, and others 
besides the four named learned there to 
pray. 

The boys succeeded after a while in coax- 
ing Alvin Brayton to go with them, but 
could not induce him to lead in prayer. 
Sometimes he said he was afraid to pray 
before so many, and again excused himself 
on the plea that, since so many of the el- 
der members of the church did not pray 
in public, there was no reason why he 
should. Alvin did not come often, and 
after a while did not come at all. 

The meetings were not always well at- 
tended ; some of the boys, like older Chris- 
tians, found reasons for staying away ; yet 
aside from the blessing to those who in 
these meetings decided to become follow- 
ers of Christ was the good it did the boys. 
They learned to pray and to speak before 
others, and became fitted to be active men 
in the church as they grew up. More than 


2 ^ 2 ' TOM BAUD. 

that, they were happier, stronger, better 
Christians. Meeting and talking together 
of their spiritual trials, they learned that 
others had the same difficulties that they 
had, and therefore were not discouraged. 
Their prayers were not without answer. 

Although Mr. Lawrence did not meet 
with them, he was as deeply interested as 
any of the boys, and asked about each 
gathering. He thought it best to let the 
boys conduct their own meetings, yet was 
always ready to give them needed advice. 

Though these boys held a prayer-meet- 
ing in which they spoke and prayed, they 
were none the less the frolicsome fellows 
they had been. Their religion and their 
boyhood agreed well together. While 
grace kept them from many frolics, it did 
not keep them from honest fun. It must 
not be supposed that Tom, Harry or any 
of these boys were perfect or free from 
wrong-doing ; they were simply boys who 
were trying to do right because they loved 
the Saviour. They came far short of do- 
ing all that God commands, and even far 
short of doing as well as they wished. 


THE boys: brayer-meeting. 273 

One night, a few weeks after the meet- 
ings were begun, as they came from one, 
they met Uncle Ned Platt, the old colored 
man who lived a short distance from the 
village. It was a bright moonlight night, 
and Bennie Moore and Will Harris were 
playing leap-frog as they went along. 

“ What mischief hab yer boys been up ter 
now?’’ asked Uncle Ned. 

“We haven’t been up to any,” replied 
Bennie. 

“ Ha ! Is dat you, Ben ?” spoke the old 
man. “ When dere’s a week dat you ain’t 
up to some mischief, it’s kase scarlet fever’s 
got ’rnong de debbil’s chilluns an’ he can’t 
get out de house ter see ’bout de boys 
outside.” 

Uncle Ned had no faith in Bennie’s con- 
version, and was very suspicious of Will 
Harris. Their constant harmless fun was 
to him proof enough that they were not 
Christians. 

“ Yer’ll see some day,” he said to others 
when talking about the conversion of these 
boys. “ Ibelieb dat Tom Bard, Harry Meyer, 
Bill Snyder, and most of dem boys, got ’lig- 
18 


274 


TOM BARD. 


ion inside ; but Ben Moore, Will Harris an’ 
two, free oders only been washed ober wid 
it. It’ll all wear off ’fore summer’s ober, ef 
’t don’ peel off ’fore summer comes.” 

“Whar’s you bin, anyhow?” he asked 
again of the boys. “ Hain’t been sottin’ 
rabbit-traps, hab yer ? You’ll sheer all 
de rabbits ’way.” 

“Say, Uncle Ned,” said Bennie, “which 
is the worst — to be in mischief or to catch 
and kill the innocent rabbits that don’t hurt 
anybody ?” 

“ Rabbits wuz made ter eat,” replied the 
old man. “ God made dem fer poor folks 
who ain’t got nuffin’ else ter eat in de meat 
line ; but Satan makes mischief ter cotch 
boys wid. I go fer de tings God made ; 
you, fer dem dat Satan made.” 

“Well, mischief don’t usually hurt folks 
as much as those who catch the rabbits do 
when they kill them.” 

“ When a rabbit gits killed, dat’s de end 
ob his pain,” replied Uncle Ned; “ but when 
de debbil cotch boys wid mischief, den de 
pain begins.” 

“ I hope Satan won’t catch any of us, 


THE BOYS^ PRAYER-MEETING. 275 

Uncle Ned,” said Bennie, in a serious 
tone. 

I hope not,” replied the old man ; “ but 
I tell yer dere’s got ter be a mighty change 
in some folks if dey’s gwine ter get rid of 
de ole feller. He’s sharp now, I tell yer 
— a reg’ler snake in de grass. First yer 
know, he bites ; den yer’s a goner, ’less 
sumfin turnup. — Whar’s yer boys been?” 
asked he coaxingly of Harry. 

“We’ve been to prayer-meeting,” was 
the answer. 

“ ‘ Prayer-meetin’ !’ What prayer-meetin’ ? 
Didn’t hear Mr. Lawrence say nufifin’ ’bout 
any, Sunday.” 

“Maybe you were asleep. Uncle Ned,” 
suggested Bennie. 

“ Pity you couldn’t sleep more,” replied 
the old man. 

Tom and Harry told about the prayer- 
meeting. 

“Neber lamed ’bout dat ’fore,” said 
Uncle Ned. “ Do you hab only boys 
dere?” 

“That’s all,” replied Harry, “excepting 
Mrs. Ball.” 


276 


TQM BARD. 


“It would hardly do to have the girls, 
you know, Uncle Ned,’' suggested Bennie, 
“ for they might make too much noise go- 
ing home.” 

The old man’s only reply to this as he 
went on toward home was, 

“ Humph ! De crow tinks dat he’s de 
only white bird dere is !” 

When he reached home. Uncle Ned told 
his wife about the boys’ prayer-meeting, and 
added, 

“ Cur’us doin’s fer boys. Nebber heerd 
de like in dis part of de keptry. ’Tain’t 
like boys ter hab prayer-meetin’s.” 

“It’s like dem, dough, ter be up ter all 
kinds ob badnuss,” replied Aunt Betty. 

“ Dat’s a fac’ I” said Ned, emphatically. 

“Ain’t it nat’ral, Ned, fer big folks ter be 
up ter all kinds of badness too ’fore dey 
gits ’ligion? Don’t dey turn, an’ repent, 
an’ pray, an’ git ’ligion, an’ den do better? 
Den why can’t boys do de same ? ’Ligion 
comes from God ; why can’t he make boys 
good, jist same as he makes men good? 
I don’t believe dat it’s harder fer God 
ter save boys ’n it is ter save grown folks. 


THE BOYS^ PRAYER-MEETING. 277 

I tell yer, Ned, when we goes ter sayin’ 
which kind ob people can git ’ligion, an' 
which can’t, we just show dat we don’ 
know much ’bout God — how big an’ strong 
he is.” 

‘‘ Dat’s so,” spoke the old man, shaking 
his head. “ Course God kin do dat an’ 
eberyting, but ’tain’t de way he’s useter 
doin’ ’round here, Betty.” 

“ Say ’tain’t de way Christians been useter 
helpin’ him to do,” replied she. “ Chillun is 
God’s lambs, an’ he gives dem ter ministers 
an’ odder good folks ter make sheep ob; 
but dey’s jist been let run wild till dere 
wool gets long an’ coarse like wolf-hair. 
When dey’s grown up big, den ministers 
an’ folks got ter go an’ cotch dem, tame 
dem down, an’ try to make good sheep ob 
dem. It’s mighty hard work, now, I tell 
yer, gittin’ de kink back in dere wool 
when it’s all soaked and pulled out 
straight by bein’ in de rain ob tempta- 
tions and de briers ob sin. ’Twould be 
a great deal easier ef folks would jist 
keep de lambs right in de flock and let 
dem romp all dey wants ter, but be all de 


278 


TOM BARD. 


while watchin’ dem jist as close as dey does 
de sheep.” 

“Well, well!” answered Uncle Ned, feel- 
ing the truth of Aunt Betty’s remarks, yet 
not pleased to have her make them ; “ I’m 
’fraid dat Bennie Moore and Will Harris 
hain’t got de giniwine wool-kink in dem. 
Dey’s curled a little on de top, but you’ll 
see dat kinks’ll soon come out when dey 
git in de rain ob temptations and de bri- 
ers ob sin.” 

“ Ef dere’s risk ob dat, den don’t let dem 
go in de brier-pastures, an’ don’t let dem 
out, when it rains, till de kink gits stronger 
and works deeper. People’s alius talkin’ 
’bout rain ob temptation and all dat. Rain’s 
all right, maybe ; but when folks go out in 
it, dey takes umberells and wraps and tings. 
Why can’t Christian folks do de same? 
De Lord gibs dem plenty ob wraps and 
umberells ; ef dey don’t use dem, den it’s 
dere own fault ef dey gits wet.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 

“ IV /r OTHER, next week is Christmas ; 

tVX and do you know that I wish we 
could have a good dinner that day ? Can’t 
we have a turkey } A little one would be 
• plenty for you, Jimmy and me, and maybe 
we would have a piece left over for Johnnie 
Murphy, who is blind, you remember, and 
hardly knows how turkey tastes. Small tur- 
keys are cheap, and I would like to try one 
again.” 

“ Tom, my boy,” said his mother, “ I wish 
we could have a turkey, but I am afraid that 
we must do without a good dinner this 
Christmas. Perhaps by another year we 
will not be so poor, and then we can make 
up for lost time, you know. Do you boys 
think that you can get along with a Christ- 
mas dinner of potatoes, bread and butter 
for one year more ?” 


27y 


28 o 


TOM BAI^D. 


“Yes, ma’am,” said Tom; “I can, I 
know.” 

But his look told how he would enjoy 
a bite of turkey “ drumstick ” or “ white- 
meat” with his bread and butter and po- 
tatoes. 

“ I can eat taters and bread and butter, if 
I can have a little molasses on one side of 
the bread, for my Tristmas dinner,” said 
Jimmy. “ Molasses is gooder than turkey, 
any way.” 

“ Mother wants to give her boys many * 
good things,” said Mrs. Bard, “ but they 
know that she has not money with which 
to buy them.” 

“ I know it, mother,” said Tom ; “ but it 
isn’t so much for myself and Jimmy that I 
want good things: I wanted a Christmas 
dinner for the best mother that any two 
boys ever had, and that’s you. Of course 
I like good things too.” 

“ Do not praise your mother too much, 
Tom,” said Mrs. Bard, “or she may be- 
come proud. She is now half proud of 
her boys.” 

“ Mother,” replied Tom, anxious for some- 


PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 28 1 

thing better than usual for his Christmas 
dinner, “ could you not afford to buy a 
chicken, or even a rabbit, for Christmas?” 

“Tom,” said his mother, “I will tell you 
all. I have just five dollars left from my 
work during the summer and fall, and now, 
you know, I cannot get any more to do. 
In a few days I must pay two dollars for 
coal. Our wood is almost gone; so is the 
flour; and I want to use those three dol- 
lars, after paying for the coal with the 
other two, for flour. A chicken or a rab- 
bit would cost nearly, if not quite, fifty cents, 
and for that I could get enough flour to 
last us almost a week ; so, you see, we 
cannot aflbrd to buy meat of any kind. I 
am sorry, my boy, for you, but we are very 
poor, and you and Jimmy must help me 
make our little money go just as far as it 
can.” 

“ Mother,” answered Tom as he tried to 
swallow a big lump in his throat, “ I didn’t 
know that we were so poor, or I wouldn’t 
have said a word about Christmas.” 

Tom did not say any more, but he 
thought a great deal — not about a Christ- 


282 


TOM BARD. 


mas dinner : he did not care for that now ; 
but if his mother had only three dollars 
with which to buy flour, and most of the 
winter before them yet, something must 
be done or they would have nothing to eat 
long before winter was ended. What could 
he do? No one had any work for him. 
There was no way that he could think of 
in which he might earn a little money. He 
said to himself, “Work is scarce, but boys 
are plenty and he wished that most of 
the boys around were girls : then a poor 
boy would have a chance to make money 
to support his mother. 

Suddenly an idea struck him. He began 
to whistle, so as to keep from telling the 
idea, and hurried out to the little barn. 

“ Why didn’t I think of it before ?” said he 
to himself. “ Rabbits ! Why, the woods are 
full of them. Might have had almost a hun- 
dred by this time. But here goes for trapping 
and snaring a lot of the little fellows. Poor 
things ! It don’t seem quite right to catch 
them. But then God must have made them 
for people to eat. He sent quails to the 
Israelites, and I guess he made rabbits for 


PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 283 

US. Yet I hate to catch the poor little 
chaps, they seem so harmless. If they’d 
fight just a little, or did some harm, I 
would have more heart to catch them. 
But something’s got to be done, and I 
can’t think of anything else. I won’t use 
box-traps, for those keep the rabbit pris- 
oner all night, and he must feel awful. 
I’ll try snares and deadfalls to kill ’em 
right away, and then I won’t have to do 
it or see them suffer, poor things !” 

It did not take Tom a long while to get 
his snares and falls ready. Before many 
hours he was in the woods setting them, 
and soon had seventeen chances for rab- 
bits. When he had placed the last, he 
sat down on an old log to think. As often 
before, he thought aloud : 

“Seventeen ! That may mean seventeen 
rabbits to-morrow. No; they won’t all have 
rabbits. Half may. We’ll say seven with 
and ten without. Seven rabbits! Whew! 
What a lot ! Keep one to eat and sell six. 
Rabbits are forty cents apiece now. That’ll 
pay. Guess we’ll have money to get along 
with through the winter. — Hold on, Tom ! 


284 


TOM BARD. 


you are counting your rabbits and dollars 
too soon. What if you don’t catch a rab- 
bit? — That’s so. Well, we’ll see.” 

Tom thought it time to go home. He 
went to bed soon that night, to dream 
about rabbits. Early the next morning, 
with an empty bag over his shoulder, he 
started for the woods. The first snare 
was sprung, but it had no rabbit; so it 
was with the second and the third, and 
with all. So, too, with the falls ; each had 
“gone off,” but not a rabbit in all the 
seventeen. 

Poor Tom ! He felt so disappointed and 
sad that he was ready to cry. All his bright 
hopes were gone. Then, as he looked at 
the empty bag and thought of the three 
dollars — all that his mother had left for 
food for the winter — a tear dropped from 
his face on the withered leaves at his feet ; 
soon another followed, and then another 
and another pattered down. He was de- 
termined to “keep all the cry inside,” but 
he could not help it leaking out from his 
eyes. At length, throwing the bag on a 
rock for a seat, he sat down to think : 


PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 285 

“ Well, it’s too bad. Not a rabbit ! Traps 
all sprung too. What are we going to do 
this winter now? Three dollars won’t go 
far for three of us. Oh dear ! and I 
thought that I would help mother so 
much! It’s hard. Wonder why it’s so? 
Maybe the Lord don’t want me to catch 
rabbits. I don’t want to catch ’em, either, 
poor things I only what’s to be done ? — See 
here, Tom: perhaps the Lord is trying your 
faith, and you give up the first time. Set 
the traps again, and ask him, if it’s right 
for you to catch rabbits, somehow to make 
the rabbits that have not much longer to 
live come to your snares. If they must 
die soon, they might as well die there as 
anywhere, and then they’d help poor folks 
too. — That’s so. I’ll try again. I’ll set the 
traps over and ask the Lord to help me help 
my mother.” 

“ Try again ” made Tom feel better ; and 
as he arranged his snares and falls he be- 
came so cheerful that he almost whistled 
“ Yankee Doodle.” He got as far as “Auld 
Lang Syne” in his cheerful whistle, and then 
thought of the rabbits that might be caught 


286 


TOM BARD. 


and how the poor things would struggle, and 
then stopped whistling. When the last trap 
was set he said to himself, 

“There, Tom Bard! You are trying 
again. Now better ask the Lord to help 
you help your mother. And maybe it 
would be well to ask him if he will please 
watch the trap and keep folks from set- 
ting ’em off ; for I guess they didn’t go off 
of themselves, and rabbits didn’t do it, or 
they’d be there to let you know.” 

So he kneeled down to pray. Thinking 
that he was alone in the woods, he prayed 
out loud, and quite loud too : “ O Lord, I 
don’t know that it’s just right to catch rab- 
bits. If it is not, forgive me and don’t let 
a rabbit be caught in one of my traps; but 
if it is right, please do thou help me in this 
way to help my mother. Thou knowest 
that we are poor, and that we have only 
three dollars left to live off during the win- 
ter. I want to help mother earn something, 
and this is the only way I know of. Thou 
hast said, ‘ Call upon me in the day of trou- 
ble, and I will deliver thee.’ This is our 
day of trouble; please help us. Lord, as 


PRAYING FOR RAPP ITS. 2^y 

thou hast promised. Please keep folks 
from troubling my traps, and please help 
us, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.” 

When Tom went home with his empty 
bag, he was almost as cheerful as when he 
started for the woods. He felt now that the 
Lord knew and would help him in some 
way. He believed that if it were best 
for everybody concerned the Lord would 
answer prayer. But Tom had been taught 
by his mother that the Lord often answers 
prayer in a different, and even a better, way 
than we expect ; so he would not have been 
surprised if the answer had come in the 
shape of a chance to earn a dollar or two 
by work. Tom wanted to help his mother, 
and wanted the Lord to help him do it, no 
matter in what way. 

Tom Bard thought that no human being 
heard his prayer, but it happened that two 
pfentlemen had started out to hunt in that 
same woods that morning, and, hearing the 
sound of his voice, had stopped to listen. 
They heard all that he asked the Lord to 
do. Besides these, James Hull and Will 
Harris, who were in the woods early that 


288 TOM BARD. 

morning, were in sound of his voice. The 
gentlemen and the boys, knowing that Tom 
would feel bad if he thought that any one had 
heard him, kept still and hidden until he had 
gone home. Then Will said to James, 

“ Now I know whose traps those were 
that Nick Smith said he had ‘let off’ last 
night. ’Twas mean in Nick. Poor Tom ! 
I did not know that he was so hard up. 
Only three dollars for the winter!” 

“ They’ll starve,” answered James. “ It’s 
too bad. Wish we could do something to 
help Tom and his mother. Guess Nick 
Smith would feel mean enough if he had 
heard Tom pray. Let’s tell him whose 
traps he sprung.” 

“All right. And we’d better tell the 
boys, too, to let Tom’s snares and falls 
alone. I don’t believe Nick would have 
done it had he known whose they are.” 

The two gentlemen said very little about 
Tom, but as they went through the woods 
they were careful not to disturb his traps. 
At night, when they came back from hunt- 
ing with quite a number of rabbits, one of 
them said. 


PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 289 

“ Here are that boy’s snares. What do 
you say to putting some rabbits into them ? 
We have plenty; and, besides, it will be a 
good joke — one that will do no harm.” 

“Agreed,” said the other. “To tell the 
truth, I’ve been thinking of the little fellow 
all day. It is too bad to have that family 
suffer. I want to find them out and see if 
they can be helped. The little fellow’s 
prayer, ‘ This is our day of trouble ; please 
help us. Lord, as thou hast promised,’ has 
come back to me again and again.” 

“Well, let us put half a dozen rabbits 
into his snares. He will at first suppose 
that they were caught. It may be that he 
will not think much of the shot in them if 
we take those least torn.” 

So eight rabbits were put into Tom’s 
traps. Five hung in the spring snares 
and three lay covered by the tops of the 
falls. 

“ I hardly imagine,” said one of the gen- 
tlemen, “that the boy’s prayer will be an- 
swered any more than this.” 

“ He will think that it is a pretty fair an- 
swer,” said the other. 


19 


290 


TOM BARD. 


“Yes, but the Lord don’t give him the 
rabbits ; we do.” 

“ It strikes me, however, that the Lord 
is using us to answer that boy’s prayer.” 

“ It was only an idea of mine, and the 
Lord had nothing to do with it.” 

“You remember that we intended to go 
to the other woods, but, without choosing 
to do so, came this v/ay, and so heard the 
boy’s prayer. Besides, we have been un- 
usually successful in hunting; you told me 
that you never before shot so many rabbits 
in one day, and I surely never have. So, 
instead of the Lord having nothing to do 
with it, it seems as though the Lord brought 
us this way to hear that boy, and then gave 
us success that we might help him, and all 
the day has kept me, at least, thinking about 
the little fellow.” 

“ Do you believe that the Lord answers 
prayer in that way?” 

“ Certainly ; he makes us do his will by 
touching our hearts.” 

“Perhaps you are right. I know that 
the boy is welcome to the rabbits, and I 
would like to help him more.” 



Praying for Rabbits, 


Page 201, 




f' 














PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 29 1 

The next morning, very early, Tom went, 
with his bag on his shoulder, to inspect his 
traps. When he came in sight of one and 
saw a rabbit hanging in a snare he shouted 
“ Hello ! there’s one ! Hurrah for me, and 
hurrah for a Christmas dinner !” Then he 
saw another hanging from the tree. “ An- 
other one !” he shouted. “ Heigho ! Two 
rabbits ! Two good dinners for mother, 
Jimmy and me. See! There’s another! 
I tell you, this looks like it. Three rab- 
bits ! No, sir — four! There’s one under 
this fall. — Come out of that, little fellow. 
Killed you dead. Am sorry for you, but 
I hope it killed you all at once. — Well, 
there’s another one under that fall, and 
another. Six rabbits ! Hurrah ! Wait ! 
There’s another one in that snare off 
yonder. And that fall is down. Eight 
rabbits ! Well, that’ll do for once. No ; 
there is another fall down, and that far- 
thest snare has a rabbit too. Ten rabbits ! 
Now, that pays ? Anymore? No. Seven 
stand yet. Well, I’ll set these ten right off. 
But I want to show these fine fellows to 
mother and Jimmy. I can hardly wait. 


292 TOM BARD. 

Guess ril come up to-night and set ’em. 
How heavy they are ! Much as I can 
carry.” 

As he was hurrying along he suddenly 
stopped and said, 

“ See here, Tom : you’ve forgot some- 
thing. You asked the Lord to help you 
to help your mother, and he’s done it — a 
good deal too. Now, are you going to 
forget him ? Not you, unless you’ve got 
to be meaner than you used to be.” 

The bag was dropped at once, and, kneel- 
ing down beside it, Tom said, 

“ O Lord, thou hast been better to me 
than I expected — better than I deserved. 
I thank thee so much that I cannot tell 
thee half of it. May I show that I am 
thankful for Jesus’ sake ! Amen.” 

A happy boy was Tom Bard as he 
walked into the house with his load on 
his back. 

“ Mother,” said he, “ I would like to have 
a rabbit for breakfast, if you have no ob- 
jection.” 

“A rabbit, Tom ? Where could I get a 
rabbit ?” 


PRAYING FOR RABBITS. 293 

Tom could not be very mysterious, so he 
dropped the bag on the floor, and, opening 
it, said, 

“See here, mother: what do you think 
of those? There are ten of them. I 
caught them. Just took them out of my 
snares and falls.’^ 

“Well, my boy,’' said Mrs. Bard, “you 
have a lot of them. You are a good 
hunter. We’ll be able now to have a 
good Christmas dinner, and I am glad, for 
your sake and Jimmy’s. Poor boys ! It is 
hard for you to live on potatoes and bread, 
with only now and then a little butter. But 
what will you do with all these rabbits ? We 
cannot eat them all.” 

“We can sell some ; they are worth forty 
cents apiece. We may make something sell- 
ing rabbits if I can catch a quarter as many 
as this each day.” 

That same evening a strange gentleman 
called on Mrs. Bard. He wanted her to 
do some sewing, and would send it to her 
in a day or two. He was one of the gen- 
tlemen who had heard Tom pray, and who 
had put the rabbits in Tom’s traps. 


294 


TOM BARD. 


During the whole winter Mrs. Bard had 
all the work she could do, and Tom gave 
up catching rabbits ; he did not like to 
think of killing the poor things. But 
there was one thing he never could under- 
stand — how the rabbits they ate could have 
got shot in them. The only way he could 
explain it was that eight of the ten rabbits 
that he caught that morning had somehow 
been shot at, but not killed, and had after- 
ward gone to his traps and been caught. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE NE W MINIS TE R . 

FEW besides Mr. Rowton were not 



r\^ pleased with Mr. Lawrence. They 
said that he made too much of the chil- 
dren, that he asked for too much money 
for missions and other benevolent objects, 
that his sermons were too personal ; so they 
did not think him the right man for their 
church. 

They did not say that he asked for money 
for the church at home, and that he got it too. 
They did not say that under his encourage- 
ment all the debt had been paid ; that since 
Mr. Lawrence came the income of the 
church had much more than doubled ; 
that every pew was taken and there 
were not enough seats for all. But they 
did grumble because, entirely unasked by 
the minister, the congregation had largely 
increased his salary. A cheaper man would 


295 


296 


TOM BARD. 


do for them, these few urged, and then 
there would be less money to pay. They 
forgot to say that the membership had 
more than doubled during Mr. Law- 
rence's pastoral care, and that many once 
worthless characters had reformed and were 
now faithful citizens, and not a few of them 
devoted Christians. 

These few complainers were among the 
wealthiest people in the congregation, but 
they did not like to give money. Many of 
the poor gave so liberally that these were 
ashamed not to give. Besides, when they 
saw the young people so active, they, felt 
conscience-stricken, yet unwilling to follow 
the example of children. What troubled 
them most, however, was Mr. Lawrence’s 
plain, practical preaching. He was never 
personal, yet preached about the duties 
that his people neglected and against the 
sins they committed. His preaching had 
a good effect on most of the people : they 
became better Christians. He did not neg- 
lect to preach the harder doctrines of the 
Church, but put them in a plain and prac- 
tical light. 


THE NEW MINISTER. 29 / 

Excepting these few, old and young, rich 
and poor, loved Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. 
But the pastor knew that some did not like 
him. He thought the number was larger 
than it was. He fancied the people were 
beginning to grow tired of him, and when, 
in the middle of winter, he was called by a 
church in the city to be its pastor, he ac- 
cepted the invitation. 

There was great sorrow in Norton ville 
when it was known that the pastor was 
about to leave them. The people held 
a meeting at once and voted to give him 
as much support as the city church offered, 
and tried by every means to persuade him 
to stay ; but it was too late. 

“ Jist as I tought,” said Uncle Ned. “Mr. 
Law’ence was makin’ tings too lively fer some 
people who can’t stand de truf. Dey’s been 
squirmin’ good deal, but de ole boy squirmed 
more yet, and he’s bin kickin’ dem kase dey 
stood it so long ; so he made dem send off 
de bestest minister Nortonville eber had. 
It’s a good ting dey can’t sen’ de Lord 
away, or de church would soon be lef’ 
’tirely alone.” 


298 


TOM BARD. 


“What shall we do now, Harry?” said 
Tom one morning on their way to school. 
“Seems to me 'twill be awful hard to do 
right.” 

“The Saviour has not moved away yet, 
has he, Tom ?” asked Harry, with a side- 
glance. 

“ Oh no ; but then we’ll miss Mr. Law- 
rence so much. He was just the one to 
tell us what to do ; he told us in such a 
way that any boy could understand. I’ll 
miss him more than I can tell. He seemed 
next to a father to me.” 

“ So shall I miss him,” replied Harry ; 
“but father says the Lord will take care 
of his church here even though the best 
minister it ever had has gone. Perhaps 
we were looking too much to Mr. Law- 
rence and not enough to Jesus ; so the 
Lord has taken away that which hides 
him from us. So father says. He said, 
too, that we can’t expect to keep such a 
man as Mr. Lawrence here. ' The only 
wonder is that he came at all and stayed 
as long as he did. Some one else will 
come.” 


THE NEW MINISTER. 299 

Some one else did come after a long 
time of waiting and hearing. The one 
chosen by the church was Mr. Turner, a 
young man who had but a short time be- 
fore completed his studies. Many would 
have preferred an older man, but Mr. 
Turner was pleasant, sociable and a good 
preacher; so the majority said nothing 
against him, while the few who did not 
like Mr. Lawrence’s practical, pointed 
sermons thought that they could make a 
young man preach just as they pleased. 
So all agreed on Mr. Turner as pastor. 

The new man was as pleasant as Mr. 
Lawrence, and soon the boys and he were 
on the best of terms ; yet there was some- 
thing about him very different from the old 
pastor. Mr. Turner could row a boat, swim, 
skate and do anything a boy could, and gen- 
erally even better. He at once took part 
in the sports of the boys. He had been 
an active member of a base-ball and a 
boating club in college, and had not given 
up his membership while in the seminary. 
Soon after he came to Norton ville he 
started a base-ball club, and became cap- 


300 


TOM BARD. 


tain of its first nine. A new school-house 
had been built in the village, and the boys 
had now more time to give to sport than 
when they took the walk of nearly a mile. 

Before long the boys were more inter- 
ested in base-ball than in the services of 
the church or the Sabbath-school. Their 
prayer-meeting had long since been united 
with that of the whole congregation. After 
Mr. Lawrence left this had gradually dwin- 
dled down, until, when the base-ball fever 
was at its height, there were rarely as many 
as half a dozen boys present, and the num- 
ber of older people was small. After play- 
ing ball until dark the boys were too tired 
to go to meeting, and sometimes Tom and 
Harry were the only boys there. Even 
Tom was absent occasionally. He had the 
base-ball fever worst of all. He was made 
captain of the second nine, and tried to make 
his nine the best players in the club. Late 
in the fall the second nine challenged the 
first, and a matched game was played. 
Tom had practiced his nine so constantly 
that they beat the other by a number of 
runs. Tom felt proud. Mr. Turner took 


THE NEW MINISTER. 


301 


the defeat good-naturedly, and praised the 
boys for their skill. 

The young minister did not forget the 
better work he came to do, but his way of 
doing it was very unlike that of Mr. Law- 
rence. He continued the services for chil- 
dren that Mr. Lawrence had begun, but the 
sermons of the two men were very differ- 
ent. Mr. Lawrence preached to them of 
Christ, the value of souls and the need each 
one had of salvation. Though Mr. Turner 
did not entirely neglect these truths, he 
spoke so much more about being noble 
boys and girls, faithful and true men and 
women, that many thought, if they were 
only noble and true before the world, it 
mattered little whether or not God were 
pleased. The young pastor taught the 
boys that often the best way to show 
their manhood was to stand on their 
honor, and, if need be, fight for it. He 
intended them to understand that some- 
times the only true way of having peace 
was by showing that they could, and would 
if compelled, fight rather than submit to 
every injury and insult. He said all he 


302 


rOM BARD. 


meant ; the boys thought he said part 
only and intended them to do a great 
deal more. 

Some of Mr. Turner’s sayings surprised 
the people ; his doings surprised them 
more; but a few were not surprised to 
see the effect of his teachings on the 
young people. There was less peace in 
school than there had been. It is true, 
Mr. Wyckoff was no longer teacher; he 
had gone to complete his studies for the 
ministry. Mr. Downer, the new teacher, 
was a good man, too, yet he could not 
control the boys. The people said it was 
owing to the school being in the village, 
but those who had opposed Mr. Lawrence 
said it was because of the bad training of 
the former pastor. 

Uncle Ned, overhearing such a remark 
one day, shook his head and muttered to 
himself, 

“Strange how some folks tries ter put 
dere pinchin’ shoes on odders’ feet !” 

Those who did not like Mr. Lawrence’s 
plain preaching were pleased with Mr. 
Turner’s sermons, but the great majority 


THE NEW MINISTER. 303 

of the congregation were disappointed in 
the young pastor. Some ceased attending 
church after a while, and gave up their 
pews ; others were seldom seen there ; 
but before this there had been a great 
lessening of religious interest. The great- 
est change was noticed in the young mem- 
bers of the church. They grew careless, 
worldly and neglectful of all religious 
duties, but they had a great deal of in- 
terest in things around them. During the 
winter they formed themselves into a lit- 
erary society and had a course of lectures. 
The lectures were good, but did not supply 
a want that the souls of the young people 
felt. 

“ All this is nice,” said Tom one day as 
he and several other boys were resting 
after skating on the pond, but somehow 
I don’t feel just as good as I used to. I 
am all the time wanting something more 
or something different.” 

“ That’s the very way with me, Tom,” 
spoke Bennie; ‘T feel hungry, and seem 
to have been eating foam. I can’t get 
enough. It is nice to eat, but when a 


304 


TOM BARD. 


fellow has chewed it there’s nothing to 
swallow.” 

“ I believe that’s about the way I feel,” 
said Will Harris. “ Something seems the 
matter. I don’t care to read the Bible or 
to pray as I used to, and in church I’m 
thinking about something else besides the 
sermon.” 

“ About the same trouble has got hold 
of me,” added Fred De Hart. “I’ve both- 
ered about it a good deal, but as you boys 
seemed to do no better than I, yet are 
Christians, and as Mr. Turner don’t talk 
to us as Mr. Lawrence used to, I thought 
maybe I had been too strict, and was al- 
most ready to just let things go as they 
are going. The fact is I either don’t un- 
derstand Mr. Turner or he doesn’t under- 
stand me.” 

If the boys missed the plain, practical 
sermons of Mr. Lawrence, none the less 
did the girls and most of the grown peo- 
ple miss them, though they may have 
talked less about it. Many lost their in- 
terest in church-going, and for a slight 
excuse stayed home. The attendance on 


THE NEW MINISTER. 305 

Sabbath grew less and less, except on fine 
days or when Mr. Turner gave notice that 
he would preach on some special subject; 
then the church was full. Mr. Rowton and 
his friends who had not been pleased with 
Mr. Lawrence found no fault. They were 
well satisfied with the young minister. 

Mr. Rowton one Sunday spoke to Uncle 
Ned (a very rare thing for him to do) about 
the preaching, and remarked that it was 
strange that so few people came to hear 
such beautiful and good sermons. 

“ ’Tain’t so strange,” replied the old 
man. “ Sheep gits tired lookin’ at flow- 
ers an’ smellin’ de bref ob roses an’ bear- 
in’ de birds sing; dey wants someting to 
eat.” 

“Mr. Turner gives them something to 
eat,” said Mr. Rowton. 

“ Dat may be,” answered Uncle Ned, 
“but it don’t stick to de ribs like.” 

“ I think Mr. Turner is the best preacher 
we have ever had here,” spoke up Mr. 
Rowton, decidedly; “and the church shows 
it too. There never was such harmony as 
there is now.” 


20 


3o6 tom bard. 

“ It may be dat it’s all hominy,” replied 
the colored man, “ but dere ain’t much 
else. People don’t care ’nuff ’bout tings 
ter quarrel. I don’t b’lieb in quarrelin’, 
eider, but sometimes it shows dat Satan 
ain’t satisfied wid de way dat tings is goin’ 
on. He won’t start a fight ef eberyting 
goin’ his own way.” 

Mr. Rowton walked away from Uncle 
Ned indignantly without another word, 
and was careful not to speak to the old 
man very soon again. 

Mr. Turner was young, but he had eyes, 
and, more, he had a true heart. He saw 
the change for the worse in the congre- 
gation — the gradual lessening of the at- 
tendance at church and prayer-meeting; 
he saw, too, that many of the professing 
Christians were neglecting their duties ; 
and he was troubled. But what troubled 
him even more was the fact that not one 
had united with the church since he became 
pastor. 

“Why is it that the church is not pros- 
pering more ?” he asked himself one day 
in his study. “ Why is there so much in- 


THE NEW MINISTER. 307 

difference on the part of Christians ? Am 
I the cause?” 

The more he thought of what the church 
was when he came, and of what it had be- 
come in less than a year under his pastoral 
care, the more he felt that the fault was his 
own. 

One Friday forenoon he met Uncle Ned, 
whom he liked and with whom he often 
talked freely. Mr. Turner always listened 
with great respect to the old man’s words, 
and saw the wisdom in what he said. Uncle 
Ned had learned to like Mr. Turner as a 
man, but did not think much of him as a 
minister, though he never showed any dis- 
respect. The pastor spoke of the condi- 
tion of the church, and compared it with 
what it had been under Mr. Lawrence’s 
ministry, frankly admitting that Mr. Law- 
rence had proved the better pastor, but 
added, 

“Yet we can’t strike twelve all the 
time.” 

“ Dat’s so,” replied the old man; “yet 
dere’s somefin’ wrong ’bout a clock dat 
don’t strike more’n one. Ought to be 


3o8 


TOM BARD. 


gainin’ a stroke now an’ den, or ’twon’t 
eber strike twelve.” 

“That is just my trouble,” replied the 
minister. “ How can I strike two and 
three, and so on ?” 

“One way is to stop strikin’ only one,” 
answered Ned. “Ain’t you usin’ de world’s 
club? Can’t eber strike more’n one wid 
dat.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. 
Turner. 

“You’s usin’ base-ball clubs and all dat 
to strike folks wid. Maybe you can knock 
dem down dat way, but it don’t do no good. 
Dey gits up again an’ jist where dey laid, 
only a little more sore.” 

“ Why, do you think it wrong for me to 
play base-ball and other games with the 
young people? It makes us better ac- 
quainted, and I can reach them easier.” 

“You must ’scuse me, Mr. Turner, fer 
axin’ questions. Ef you want to make 
fings better, I want to help. Maybe I 
don’t take de right way, dough.” 

“ Don’t be afraid to ask questions or to 
tell me what you think is the truth. I am 


THE NEW MINISTER. 3O9 

troubled about the church, and wish to see 
a change for the better.’’ 

“ Mr. Turner, does you tink dat base-ball 
playin’ made de boys any better ?” asked the 
colored man. 

“ It made them stronger and more 
rugged.” 

“ But dat’s de doctor’s business. Has 
you made dere souls better ? Has you 
led any ob dem to de Saviour, or eben 
into de church, by it?” asked the old man, 
tenderly. 

“ I do not know that I have,” replied the 
minister, thoughtfully ; “ but I have by it 
won their confidence and good-will.” 

“ Dat’s so, but dey like you as a good 
ball-player an’ swimmer an’ all dat ; I don’t 
know dat dey tink you be a better minister 
for it, dough. Dey tink ob you as de min- 
ister ob fun, and not de minister ob de Lord. 
’Scuse me for sayin’ dat it seems as if you 
had bin gittin’ ready to do good, but hadn’t 
got started. You’s cut lots ob canes and 
hasn’t walked wid dem yet.” 

“Uncle Ned,” said the young minister, 
after a thoughtful pause, “ I am obliged to 


310 TOM BARD. 

you for speaking so frankly. There is 
truth in what you say. Now I will be 
more obliged yet if you will tell me how 
to go to work.” 

“ Don’ know dat I can tell you right. I 
don’ know much, but when trees didn’t bar 
much I’ve seed dat de trouble was at de 
root. Maybe ’tis so wid de church. De 
preachin’, de prayer-meetin’ an’ de Sunday- 
school be de roots ob de church ; git dem 
right, and dere’ll be fruit on de tree soon. 
Jist you let odders lead de base-ball and 
all dat; you lead de church. We’s all 
sheep, an’ some’s got away off, and wild 
too ; call dem back an’ tame dem. Dey’s 
been eatin’ wild grass too long ; now give 
dem de juicy white clober ob de gospel. 
Soon you’ll see de long coarse har drop 
out an’ de real wool wid de giniwine kink 
in come back agin.” 

Uncle Ned’s talk did Mr. Turner good. 
No one else would have spoken so plainly, 
but it was just what the young minister 
wished to know. He went back to his 
study and spent the afternoon and most 
of the night in thought and prayer. 


THE NEW MINISTER. 


3II 

“ I have led my flock away from the 
Shepherd,” said he; “I have, as Uncle 
Ned says, used the world’s club to knock 
people down with, and have left them 
where they fell. Will not these souls be 
required at my hand? By my careless- 
ness I have undone much of the work of 
the faithful pastor before me. Instead of 
watching carefully over the young lambs 
of the flock, I have led them away from 
good pasture into the barren desert.” 

Long did the young man pray for God’s 
forgiveness, and for guidance in the work 
of leading souls heavenward. 

On Sabbath morning he preached a ser- 
mon on consecration to Christ. It was a 
pleasant day, and the church was well filled. 
The people listened with close attention. 
Mr. Turner was an eloquent man when, 
as this morning, his heart was in his sub- 
ject. At the close of the service good 
old Mr. Bangs took his pastor’s hand and 
thanked him for the sermon, but he did not 
tell him that he had spent most of the night 
in prayer while his pastor was by a good 
rest preparing for the work of the Sabbath. 


312 


TOM BARD. 


Nor did others know that Uncle Ned and 
Aunt Betty had prayed long on Friday and 
Saturday nights, as well as on Sunday 
morning, for their minister, that he might, 
as Uncle Ned said, get at the roots of the 
tree not only, but at the roots of evil too, 
instead of trimming the old tree to make 
it grow the better. 

As the old man left the church he said 
to some one, 

“ De. min’ster’s got hold ob de Lord’s club 
dis time, sure. He can handle dat better’n 
de ball club. He hits de ball ebery time 
wid dat, and don’t make one foul.” 

The next Sabbath the sermon was on 
humiliation ; the third, on Christian duty 
toward souls ; and the fourth, on the re- 
sponsibility for all our opportunities. The 
fifth Sabbath, Mr. Turner preached from 
the text “ God requireth that which is 
past,” and closed with some most startling 
questions as to what his hearers would 
answer God at the judgment. 

These five sermons had a great effect, 
and on none more than on the young 
members of the church. Many of them 


THE NEW MINISTER. ^ 313 

had grown careless and worldly, and some 
of the older members wished that many 
of the girls and the boys had not been 
admitted to the church. 

The older members might yet neglect 
the youthful ones, but the pastor no long- 
er did. He became superintendent, and 
at once the Sabbath- school showed new 
life. He urged the boys to start their 
prayer-meeting again, and attended it with 
them. They were ready to follow their 
minister now in everything. For a while 
the base-ball club was kept up, but the 
minister was seldom seen on the ground. 
His excuse was that he was too busy, but 
he advised the boys not to give up their 
sports, and sometimes for an hour engaged 
with them. 

Gradually most of the young members 
were won back to their duty and to faith- 
fulness, though some were never quite so 
active and so faithful as when they had 
first begun to live Christian lives. 

Alvin Brayton seemed to have gone en- 
tirely away from the Saviour: Alvin had 
not the best of examples at home. Ben- 


314 » tom bard. 

nie Moore and Will Harris had so much 
given way to their love of fun and mis- 
chief that they too seemed almost hopeless 
backsliders; but Will’s sister Nellie, by her 
watchful care over her brother, kept him 
from going entirely astray. He had his 
times of repenting, and more than once 
he told Nellie that he did want to live a 
better life. Bennie was ready to do as 
Will did, and one night both were at the 
young people’s prayer-meeting. The next 
week they were there again, and Bennie 
spoke. 

“ I have been like a dog without a mas- 
ter,” said he : “I wouldn’t let Satan own 
me, and knew that I was not worthy to 
claim Jesus. My heart felt friendless ; 
there was something lacking in my pleas- 
ures. It seemed as if I was a homeless 
dog, afraid to eat anything for fear I would 
be whipped, and yet I was so hungry that 
I could not help eating ; and when I had eat- 
en all I could, there was hunger yet. I 
wanted a master to feed me and a home 
to, stay in. My soul was cold and shiv- 
ering, and my heart was homesick. Often 


THE NEW MINISTER. 315 

at night those little prayer-meetings of ours 
used to come to my mind ; then, when 
asleep, I dreamed I was in one and happy 
again, but when morning came I was the 
same careless fellow. Yet the dreams 
would come back during the day in spite 
of all I did to think of something else. At 
night I was glad to have them come back ; 
for oh, the pleasures of the day didn’t last. 
But now I mean to live a new life again. 
I’m so glad that I have started over, and 
don’t see how I came to go back. It was 
not because I wanted to, but because I 
didn’t think.” 

For Tom Bard the struggle was severe. 
On the one hand were his mother’s faithful 
life and advice, Harry’s influence and the 
gentle but timely warnings of Nellie Har- 
ris ; on the other hand were his friends 
Bennie, Will and Fred, and his own love 
of fun and mischief. Yet Tom did not 
turn away from the Saviour. Many a 
time he held back and neglected duties, 
but he still tried to live a Christian life, 
though far from being as faithful as the 
one he started to live. It would have 


3i6 


TOM BARD. 


been less faithful had not Nellie’s low 
voice said to him, when they happened to 
be walking together from Sunday-school 
one day, 

“Tom, you won’t forget the Saviour, will 
you, as some of the other boys seem to be 
doing? You pray for me, and I’ll pray 
for you ; and let us pray, too, for the 
others.” 

Praying for others kept Tom from for- 
getting his own soul. Tom, with Harry, 
was among the first to take an active part 
in the young people’s prayer-meeting. With 
active work, much of his struggling ceased, 
and, as he said, he began to enjoy his Chris- 
tian life again, just as one who has been sick 
enjoys the good things when he gets well. 

Bill Snyder was not turned away at all. 
There was a peculiar faithfulness in him, 
showing that when he was converted 
everything there was of Bill Snyder was 
converted. He did not become a gentle- 
man, for all his early training had served 
to turn him the other way, but he did be- 
come a true, faithful man ; and gradually, 
by mingling with others, the rough parts 


THE NEW MINISTER. 317 

of Bill’s character became smoothed, though 
never polished. 

Mr. Turner’s change had a great effect 
on the church. Soon he too welcomed a 
number to the communion. The Sabbath 
services were as well attended as during 
Mr. Lawrence’s pastorate, and the church 
prospered. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


TOM DREAMS OF TRYING TO ENTER HEAVEN 
WITH RICHES. 

HEN Tom was fifteen years old, 



V V Mr. Rowland, who kept the lar> 
gest store in the village, asked him if he 
was able to drive the grocery wagon, to 
take and deliver orders and to go to the 
depot for light freight ; “ For,” said he, I 
want somebody to do it ; and if you feel 
able, you are just the boy I want.” This 
was what Tom would like to do. What 
boy does not wish to drive and take care 
of a horse? 

“ I think that I could do it, sir,” said Tom; 
“ I’d like to try.” 

“ Well,” said Mr. Rowland, “if your moth- 
er is willing, I will hire you, and give you 
fifteen dollars a month ; then, of course, 
you will board at home. The work is 
hard, and you will need all your strength; 


318 


TOM^S DREAM. 


319 


but I do not wish you to do more than 
your ability will allow. Anything too 
heavy for you I will hire a man to do.” 

Tom was delighted with the offer, and 
as soon as he could get his mother’s con- 
sent accepted the situation. He knew 
that the work would be hard, and that it 
would keep him busy from morning till 
night ; but then there was fifteen dollars 
to be earned each month. Fifteen dollars 
a month ! That meant one hundred and 
eighty dollars a year. 

“Whew!” said Tom to himself; “that 
will support our family right along, with- 
out mother’s doing anything besides house- 
work, and it will leave about fifty dollars to 
spare. Old boy, you are lucky. Keeping 
your mother and brother! Pretty well for 
a boy of fifteen. If you earn so much now, 
what will it be when you are thirty? You 
will be rich some day ; see if you are not. 
Well, what’ll you do with your money? 
Give it all to the heathen or some other 
good cause? Now, see here, Tom Bard: 
you’ve been poor; so have your mother 
and Jimmy. You might as well get the 


320 


TOM BAKD. 


good of your money. Build a big house ; 
own houses, farms, railroads and things. 
That’s the way to do it. Of course, you 
must give some away, but enjoy yourself 
too.” 

Tom went to work, and worked faithfully. 
At the end of the first month, when he re- 
ceived his wages, he was a happy boy. He 
asked Mr. Rowland to give him the whole 
amount in one-dollar bills. That night, when 
he went home, he took out his roll of bills, 
and, laying them out one by one on the table 
as Jimmy looked on, he said, 

“Ahem! Who wants money It’s plenty 
in this house. We are pretty rich. — Look, 
mother! see all this money. I earned it 
all, and in one month too.” Then, in a 
lower tone, he said, “ Mother, can’t we lay 
up about four dollars of this toward buy- 
ing railroad stock?” 

“ ‘ Railroad stock ’ ! What do you mean, 
Tom ?” asked his mother. 

“ Mean just what I say. I am going to 
be rich some day ; then I’ll be president 
of a railroad company, and you shall have 
a free pass to go to the city whenever you 


TOM^S DREAM. 


321 


wish. Jimmy shall have a good office, with 
a large salary too. We have seen the last 
of our poor days ; and when we are rich, I 
mean to enjoy it, I tell you.” 

“ Tom, my boy, be careful,” said his 
mother ; “ you know that the Saviour 

said : ‘ How hardly shall they that have 
riches enter the kingdom of heaven!’” 

“Yes,” added Jimmy, “and my text in 
Sunday-school was, ‘ It is easier for a camel 
to go through the eye of a needle than for 
a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’ ” 
Since he had been at work earning money, 
Tom had set his mind on becoming rich with 
no other object than to have plenty of money 
and enjoy life ,* so these texts troubled him. 
He said nothing in reply, though he thought 
a great deal. After a while he gathered the 
money together, and, giving it to his moth- 
er, said, ■ ^ 

“ Here, mother ; you keep this, and use it 
as you think best.” 

Soon afterward he went to bed, and be- 
fore long was asleep. He dreamed that he 
was an old man and had made a large for- 
tune. At length, when he was able to 
21 


322 


TOM BAKD. 


count his wealth by millions of dollars, he 
gfave up business, and, gathering all his 
property together, started to find a good 
place in which to live and enjoy it. He 
had all his wealth in railroad bonds, mort- 
gages, and large bankbills, so that he could 
carry all on his back ; but, somehow, it was 
fastened in one pack in such a way that he 
could not take it apart. In his dream he 
seemed to leave his native home and to 
pass away into a strange country. As he 
traveled on, the country became so beau- 
tiful that he thought it was just the place 
for him to live and enjoy his property, but 
there were no inhabitants. There were 
springs, streams, grass, flowers, trees, fruit, 
birds and gentle animals in abundance, but 
no people. After walking a long distance 
he saw far ahead the walls of a city. In 
time he reached it, and found right before 
him a gate standing partly open. The 
walls of the city were very high, and, 
unlike the walls of other cities of which 
Tom had read, were very beautiful. While 
he looked at and admired the beauty of the 
stones, his ear caught the sound of music 


TOM'S DREAM. 


323 


coming through the gate ; and when he 
came in front, he saw that the inside of 
the city was far more beautiful than with- 
out. 

“ Ah,” thought he, “ this is the place I 
want ! This city shall be my home. In 
it I am sure to be happy and enjoy my 
property.” 

So he started to go through the gate, 
but when he tried to pass he found it too 
narrow to admit him with his wealth ; it 
was even too narrow to allow him to walk 
through with his arms by his side. The 
gate was in the shape of a cross, and, for 
Tom to be able to pass through, his arms 
must hold nothing, but must be stretched 
out from his body, to go through the nar- 
row openings that formed the arms of the 
cross. 

Looking in at the gate, Tom could catch 
a glimpse of the city. It was not crowded 
with houses and streets; there were also 
many trees and beautiful green grass, and 
fruit and flowers without end. He caught 
a sight, too, of a river, and of many people, 
who all seemed to be very happy. He heard 


324 TOM BARD. 

the music more plainly now, but what 
seemed strange to him was that it came 
from everywhere — from the trees, from 
the grass, from the walks, from the 
houses, from the river, from everything. 
It was as if music breathed from each 
thing, just as light shines from everything 
in the sunlight. 

Tom looked and listened ; the more he 
saw and heard, the more he wished to be 
in the city. But with his property he could 
not pass through the gate, and he would 
not go in without it. He thought to him- 
self that, as the city was very large, there 
were no doubt other gates not so narrow, 
and through one of these he could easily 
pass with all his wealth ; so, with his prop- 
erty on his back, he started to find an- 
other entrance. After walking a long 
distance — for the city was very large — 
he came in sight of another gate. But 
'this, too, was in the shape of a cross, 
and as narrow as the other. 

“ I can’t go though that,” said Tom ; “ it 
is no wider than the other. I will try far- 
ther.” 


TOM^S DREAM. 


325 


He walked on, and after a weary journey 
came to another gate. That, too, was nar- 
row and shaped like the others. 

Looking along the line of the wall, Tom 
saw that it ended not very far away. 

“ I will go around to the other side,” said 
he. 

But the three on this side were all like 
those which Tom had tried on the other. 

“Well,” said he, “Til try each side, and 
go all around the city. It cannot be that 
all the gates are so small. How do they 
carry through the things that they need 
from without? There must be a larger 
gate somewhere. It may be only a back 
one, but no matter ; I mean to get into that 
city. The more I see of it, the more I feel 
that I must live inside. I never knew that 
there was such a beautiful place. It would 
be easy enough to go in if one had nothing 
to carry, but in a city like this I must have 
my property. Besides, I have struggled too 
long and worked too hard for all this wealth 
to lose it now. I have had no good of it 
yet. All my life has been spent in getting ; 
now I mean to enjoy it.” 


TOM BARD. 


^26 

Down the long line of wall on each side 
Tom. tramped wearily, passing gate after 
gate, each too narrow to admit him and his 
load, until, footsore and worn out, he came 
to the gate from which he had started. 

“ There !” said he ; “ Fve gone entirely 
around the city, and there is not one gate 
large enough to let me in with my prop- 
erty. What shall I do ? I want to go — 
I must go — into the city; but then what 
shall I do with all this property ? If it is 
left behind now, what will be the use of all 
my life-work ? If I go in without it, I must 
go as a beggar. If I had only known of 
this city before, and had sent my property 
in, to be kept for me, I would not be in 
such trouble now. Can’t I crowd this 
through some way ? I’ll try and he 
did try, but the pack was too large. 

While he was struggling to push it 
through the narrow way, suddenly some- 
thing from the inside threw the property 
over Tom’s head and far away from the 
gate. While he stood wondering what 
this meant, a strange man stepped in front 
of him and asked, sternly. 


TOM^S DREAM. 


327 


“Were you trying to force that pack 
yonder into this city 

“Yes; I did try,” said Tom, humbly. 

“ What is in it ?” 

“All my property — my bonds, my stock, 
my money, all.” 

‘How did you get it?” 

I earned it all honestly by my hands 
and my brain.” 

“ Did you earn nothing more than that ?” 

“Nothing but what was used for the sup- 
port of my family and myself.” 

“ Did you work all your lifetime for that 
property ?” 

“Yes, ever since I was a boy of fifteen 
years old.” 

“ If you are allowed to bring it into the 
city, what do you mean to do with your 
wealth ?” 

“ I mean to enjoy it — to take the good 
of it.” 

“Then you have given all your life, 
your time, talents, everything, for yourself 
alone?” 

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

“Is that what God made you for?” 


328 


TOM BARD. 


“ I am not sure that it is/’ 

“Not sure? Did you never read your 
Bible and learn what you were meant for ? 
Did you never read that it is easier for a 
camel to go through the eye of a needle 
than for a rich man to enter into the king- 
dom of God?” 

“Yes; but — ” 

“But what?” 

“ That does not hinder my entering 
here.” 

“ Do you know what place this is ?” 

“ No ; I only know that it is a most beau- 
tiful city, in which I wish to live.” 

“ This is heaven.” 

“ What ! Heaven ? God’s home ? The 
home of his people !’ Then it is the place 
for me : I am a Christian.” 

“ Yes, this is heaven, but you cannot en- 
ter. Those who live for Christ and for the 
good of others, those who trust in Jesus, 
enter here. You lived for yourself in the 
world, you trusted in riches, and you must 
stay outside with the wealth for which you 
have sacrificed heaven.” 

“ Oh, am I lost, then?” groaned Tom. 


TOM^S DREAM. 


329 


“ Have I not only wasted my life to get 
money, but lost my soul? Lost heaven 
to get rich ! Lost ! lost !' I have lost all !” 
and he groaned so loud that he awoke. 

Tom looked around him. The moon 
was shining through the window on his 
narrow bed, and he saw that he was yet 
in his humble home, a poor boy. As soon 
as he could understand that it was all a 
dream he said aloud to himself, 

“ Thank God that it was only a dream ! 
But it was awful. What if it had been 
real ? It may be real some day if I give 
my all for wealth. Oh dear, dear! The 
dream seems too awful 1 I can’t bear to 
think of the reality. To lose my soul for 
ever, to be shut out of heaven eternally, 
just that I may become rich ! No, no, no 1 
I can’t sell my soul so cheaply as that. — See 
here, Tom Bard : you started that way, and 
this dream came as a warning. Remember 
that, will you? — Yes, sir; I’ll never forget 
it. — But look here, old fellow: it is not 
wrong to try to earn money. Mother and 
Jimmy, and yourself too, must live. Be- 
sides, you. can do lots of good with money. 


330 


TOM BARD, 


Now let me tell you how to do. You have 
earned fifteen dollars the past month, and 
you mean to earn a like amount this month. 
Use what you need to support the family, 
and lay up some for bad times ; the rest 
give to the Lord. Or give to the Lord at 
least one-tenth of all you earn ; he’ll lay 
it up for you in heaven. It’ll be safe there; 
you’ll find that it has got inside before you. 
Then you won’t have to lug and tug to get 
through the gate with what you have earned 
and at last find that you can’t get in. The an- 
gels will take it through for you, and have 
it ready when you come. — That’s so ; I’ll 
do it. — And see here, Tom Bard : if you 
want to make money, just keep doing that, 
and, my word for it — no, the Lord’s word 
for it — you’ll have enough by and by. 
That’s the way to do with money. — Here- 
after Tom Bard gives one-tenth of what 
he earns to the Lord to keep for him in 
heaven. But how shall I give my money 
to the Lord ? There are the heathen, the 
home missions. Oh, there are lots of 
ways. But wait. In the morning I’ll ask 
mother what she thinks about it.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


TOM^S TRIAL. 


BOUT two months after Tom began 



r\^ working for Mr. Rowland, his em- 
ployer one night missed a ten-dollar bill. 
He asked his clerks if they knew anything 
about the money. Neither of them had 
seen it. Tom had put up the horse and 
gone home some time before. Mr. Bar- 
more and John Green, the clerks, had 
been with Mr. Rowland for a number of 
years, and he had never had reason to 
suspect them of dishonesty, nor did he 
believe that either of them knew about 
the missing money. 

“ It is strange where that bill has gone,’' 
said Mr. Rowland. “ It was in the money- 
drawer before night — I saw it myself — but 
it is gone now, that’s certain. Has any 
one besides ourselves been behind the 
counter this evening?” 


331 


332 


TOM BARD. 


“ I have seen no one,” said John Green. 

“The only one I have seen behind the 
counter,” said Mr. Barmore, “was Tom 
Bard ; but I did not see him do anything 
with the money-drawer, though he was by 
it.” 

“ Tom has not taken that ten-dollar bill, 
I know,” said John, who was a warm friend 
of Tom. 

“No one said he has,” retorted Mr. Bar- 
more; “but we haven’t seen enough of 
him yet to be sure about Tom. You 
don’t know about those wild fellows.” 

“Tom is not wild,” replied John Green. 
“ He is a jolly, good-natured fellow and 
ready to do a favor for anybody, and, as 
for his taking money, I don’t believe he 
ever thinks of such a thing. I am no 
Christian, but I believe Tom Bard is; he 
will not do anything wrong if he knows 
it. He is a fellow who never tries to hide 
an evil, but tries to get rid of it; and that 
is the kind of Christian I like to see.” 

“ Oh, well, I hope Tom is a Christian,” 
said Mr. Barmore, “but he has too much 
nonsense in him to suit me.” 


TOM^S TRIAL, 


333 


“ Did you see Tom by the money-drawer?” 
asked Mr. Rowland. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Mr. Barmore, “but I 
don’t know what he was doing there.” 

“ I don’t think he took the money,” said 
Mr. Rowland. “ I do not wish to believe 
he did.” 

“I am sure he didn’t,” said John Green. 

“Well, I’m not so sure of it,” added Mr. 
Barmore, who was always ready to differ 
from others and to see faults in boys. 

Mr. Barmore was a sober, sedate man. 
He was a good man, too, but he could not 
quite understand how fun and piety could . 
live together in the same person ; and he 
had been watching Tom very closely ever 
since he came to work for Mr. Rowland. 
He thought it was a mistake when Tom 
was admitted to the church, and had more 
than once told his wife that he feared that 
Bard boy would some day bring trouble to 
the church. It is not strange, then, that he 
was now ready to suspect Tom of taking the 
money. 

“I like Tom,” said Mr. Rowland, “and 
will not believe him guilty of taking that 


334 


TOM BARD. 


bill until I have better proof than we have 
now. If either of you suspects him, please 
don’t tell your suspicions to any one ; and, 
above all things, don’t say anything to Tom 
about it. Don’t, without the best reasons, 
crush the ambition, the hope and the joy in 
his heart.” 

Nothing was said to Tom about the 
money the next day; but if Mr. Rowland 
did watch him a little closely, Mr. Barmore 
was ten times more observant. 

One night, some weeks after this, when 
Mr. Rowland returned from the city, where 
. he had been on business for the day, Mr. 
Barmore called him aside, after Tom had 
gone home and all of the customers had 
left, and in a low voice said, 

“ I’m afraid there is something wrong, Mr. 
Rowland. A five-dollar bill has been stolen 
out of the store to-day.” 

“ Five dollars !” repeated Mr. Rowland. 
“ How do you know it has been taken ?” 

“ I know it was taken, but I do not know 
exactly who took it,” returned Mr. Bar- 
more. “ I will tell you about it. I was 
waiting on a customer while John was at 


TOM'S TRIAL. 


335 


dinner. Tom Bard was in the store, be- 
hind the counter, attending to something. 
Mr. Smith came in and handed me a five- 
dollar bill to pay on his account. Just then 
a wagon drove up to the door, and a lady, 
in trying to get out, fell. Without stop- 
ping to put the bill in the drawer — for I 
was at the other end of the store — I placed 
the money quickly back of a box on a shelf 
behind the counter and hurried out to help 
the lady, who was quite badly hurt. It was 
some minutes before I could get back. Tom 
Bard, in the mean while, remained behind the 
counter. As soon as possible I went back* 
for the money, but it was not there. I have 
looked everywhere, but the bill is not to be 
found. Some one must have stolen it.’^ 

“That is strange,” said Mr. Rowland — 
“very strange. Where could the money 
have gone ?” 

“ I do not know,” answered Mr. Barmore. 

“ You remember that a ten-dollar bill was 
lost some time ago. Did you ever miss 
any other money?” 

“No,” replied Mr. Rowland; “not that I 
recall now.” 


336 


TOM BARD. 


“ Both of these bills have disappeared 
since Tom Bard came in the store. It is 
the first money you have lost, and each 
bill was missed after that boy was seen 
behind the counter. I do not accuse him 
of taking the money ; I only say that the 
facts are against him.” 

“ I cannot believe that Tom is a thief,” 
said Mr. Rowland ; “ yet, as you say, the 
facts are rather against him. Are you 
certain 'that no one else excepting your- 
self and Tom was behind the counter?” 

am sure,” replied Mr. Barmore, “that 
there was no one else ; besides, I asked 
Tom when I missed the money. He said 
there had been no one.” 

“You did not accuse him of taking it 
himself, did you ?” asked Mr. Rowland. 

“No, sir,” was the reply ; “I thought you 
had. better do that.” 

“ I am glad you did not. I will speak to 
him about it. But I will not lose faith in 
Tom until there is certain proof of his 
dishonesty. A good boy’s character should 
stand in his favor as much as suspicions 
against him. Whatever our opinions about 


TOM’S TRIAL. 


337 


it may be, a true character stands, even 
though hidden by the mists of suspicion. 
I believe Tom will come out all right yet. 
Do not say anything to him about this.” 

Believing in Tom as he did, Mr. Rowland 
could not think him guilty; yet Mr. Bar- 
more's suspicious suggestions would come 
back — the first money missed, two bills lost 
within three months, both since Tom had 
come into the store, and each one gone 
after Tom had been behind the counter. 
It was suspicious. 

The next morning Mr. Rowland did not 
feel quite so sure that Tom was honest, 
and he resolved to question him closely. 
As soon as Tom came into the store he 
called him to his desk and said, 

“ Tom, do you know that we have missed 
money of late in this store ?” 

“ ‘ Missed money ’ !” replied Tom, look- 
ing up in surprise. “ What became of 
it?” 

“That is just what I would like to find 
out,” answered Mr. Rowland. “A ten- 
dollar bill was taken some time ago from 
the money-drawer, and yesterday a five- 
22 




TOM BATH. 


dollar bill was taken from behind the 
counter, where Mr. Barmore had laid it. 
Now, Tom, do you know anything about 
this money?” 

“ I ?” asked Tom, his whole face full of 
astonishment. “No, sir; I have never 
opened,* nor even looked into, the money- 
drawer.” 

“Were you behind the counter yesterday 
when Mr. Barmore was helping the lady who 
fell from the wagon ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” was the reply. 

“ Was any one else behind while you were 
.there, except Mr. Barmore?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Why did you stay there all that time ?” 

“ Because there was quite a crowd around, 
and I thought I had better stay and watch 
things. I wanted to help the lady, too.” 

“ Perhaps it would have been better if 
you had,” said Mr. Rowland, whose sus- 
picions were somehow increased with the 
last part of Tom’s reply. “Tom, do you 
know anything about that money ? Have 
you seen it ? Did you take either of those 
bills?” added he, as Tom’s face colored. 


TOM’S TRIAL. 


339 


“ Mr. Rowland,” replied Tom, with trem- 
bling voice, “do you take me for a thief?” 

“No,” answered he; “but it’s the first 
money we have ever missed from the 
store. Now it is the second time that 
money has disappeared — both since you 
came into the store — and each time it was 
missed shortly after you had been behind 
the counter. I do not say that you stole 
that money ; I do not know that you did, 
nor do I wish to believe you guilty; yet 
you must allow that it looks suspicious.” 

“Am I the only one who can steal ?” 
asked Tom, indignantly. “ Have I been 
dishonest before?” 

“ No, Tom, no,” said Mr. Rowland,, al- 
most ashamed of his questions. 

“ Mr. Rowland, I am not a thief. I am 
poor, but not poor enough to steal. When 
we were almost starving at home, I never 
took what I had no right to; I surely 
wouldn’t begin now, when I am receiving 
such good wages from you.” 

“ But you must admit, Tom,” said Mr. 
Rowland, “ that appearances are somewhat 
against you.” 


340 


TOM BARD. 


Looking his employer steadily in the eye, 
Tom asked, 

‘‘Mr. Rowland, do judges ever condemn 
men without good proof?” 

“ No, Tom, no,” he replied. 

“Then are you willing to treat me as 
fairly as a judge would if I were on trial?” 
inquired the boy. 

“ Certainly,” replied Mr. Rowland. “ But, 
Tom, there is some proof.” 

“ Is it proof, Mr. Rowland, or does it only 
look like proof? I have never touched nor 
seen either the ten or the five-dollar bill, 
but I can’t prove it to you.” 

“Well, Tom,” said Mr. Rowland, “I have 
always believed you honest, and wish to think 
so now. I do not mean to discharge you ; 
I can afford to lose the fifteen dollars better 
than you can afford to lose your character. 
We will leave the matter here and say noth- 
ing more about it. If in the future you 
should prove dishonest, I will think you 
took the money. Does that satisfy you ?” 

“ I suppose it must,” replied Tom, slowly; 
“ but it is hard to be suspected, when I know 
I do not deserve it.” 


TOM^S TRIAL. 


341 


Tom went very quietly about his work 
that day ; no more whistling or singing from 
him. John Green more than once asked 
him what was the matter — if he was sick. 
Tom made little reply to any questions, but 
was, if possible, more faithful than ever. 
He had been so startled by the questions 
of Mr. Rowland that he was hardly able 
to think. At noon, without eating his din- 
ner — Tom had no appetite — he sat watch- 
ing the horse eat, and then began to 
think. 

“A thief!” said he to himself. “Yes, 
Mr. Rowland thinks me a thief. Now I 
know how it feels to be thought a rogue. 
How awful it must be to be one !” 

The more he thought, the more it troubled 
him. At length he said, 

“ I can’t stand this. It’s my day of trou- 
ble. Unless I am in some way proved in- 
nocent, everything that’s wrong will be laid 
to me; Oh, if it should get out, and others 
should think me a thief, what could I do ? 
No one would hire me ; no one would trust 
me. I could do nothing to support mother 
and Jimmy. Mother ! What will she think 


342 


TOM BARD. 


of it when she hears it ? But she will hear 
it somehow. No ; I will myself tell her all 
about it. Mother will believe me, if no- 
body else does. Jesus will, too ; he knows. 
Yes, that is good; Jesus knows. Bad as 
he knows me to be, he knows that I did 
not take that money. He knows how it 
feels to be accused when innocent; he un- 
derstands all. I am glad to know about 
Jesus, and to love him. He will help me 
bear this. He will bring me out all right 
too, some time, I am sure.” 

Thinking and talking to himself in this 
way, Tom went up into the loft above the 
stable and there kneeled down in prayer. 
It seemed to him, while praying, that the 
Saviour said, “ I will be with you. I was 
tried in all points like as you are ; I know, 
and I am able to help.” 

As Tom went about his work that after- 
noon he overtook Harry Meyer. 

“Hold up, Tom,” called Harry, “and I 
will ride with you ;” and the two were soon 
riding along together. 

“ What’s the matter, old boy ?” asked 
Harry, who had noticed Tom’s quietness. 


TOM*S TRIAL. 


343 


“ Something’s up, I know ; might as well 
tell. You can trust a fellow, can’t you, 
especially when it’s the one who sits by 
you now ?” 

‘‘Yes, Harry; I’ll tell you,” said Tom. 
“ I can trust you and Tom told his story. 
“ Now, what would you do, Harry, if you 
were me ?” 

“ ‘ Do ’ !” replied Harry. “Just go on as 
you are. You’ve told the Lord all about 
it and put your case into his hands, haven’t 
you ?” 

“Yes,” answered Tom ; “I’ve tried to.” 

“ Then leave it there. Don’t try to man- 
age it ; the Lord can do that better than 
you. He’ll make it all right, too, some 
day.” 

“Yes; I hope he will. But, Harry, it’s — 
it’s hard to bear.” ^ 

“I don’t doubt it,” replied Harry. “But 
you know the Bible says, ‘Now no chasten- 
ing for the present seemeth to be joyous, 
but grievous ; yet afterward it yieldeth the 
peaceable fruits of righteousness to them 
that are exercised thereby.’ This is your 
time of trial, Tom; the Lord has some- 


344 


TOM BARD. 


thing for you to do, and he wants to see 
what you are fit for. Stand it, old boy ; the 
Lord will take care of you and bring you 
out all right by and by.” 

“Well, I hope people won’t hear about 
it ; lots of them will think it’s true, and then 
it’s all up with Tom Bard in this village,” 
said Tom, sadly. 

“Heigh ho !” replied Harry; “don’t you 
think the Lord is a match for the folks in 
this village ? Guess he can manage them 
all, even though every one should hear of 
the story.” 

“ It would break my mother’s heart,” re- 
plied Tom, “ if she knew that people heard 
and believed it.” 

“The Lord will take care of her too, 
Tom, especially since she wants him to. 
Don’t trouble yourself about its getting 
out; if the Lord thinks best, he’ll let it 
get out. Then he’ll make it turn around 
and do good for you.” 

When Tom told his mother the story that 
night, he was not more than half pleased to 
have her make light of it ; he did not know 
that it troubled his mother, and that she 


TOM'S TRIAL. 345 

talked so cheerfully to prevent his feeling 
more sad. 

It will all come right, Tom,” she said, 
‘‘and until it does you trust in the Lord. 
Be faithful to him and to every duty ; keep 
up your good character, and it will keep up 
you.” 

“But, mother,” asked Tom, “what would 
you say if every one in the village should 
hear and talk about it?” 

“ I would say that Tom had always been 
honest, and that I believe him to be honest 
now.” 

“ But, mother, it would almost break your 
heart,” continued he. 

“ Break my heart, Tom !” repeated his 
mother. “It will make me feel sorry, but 
I will feel sure that my boy’s honesty will 
show itself some day, and that those who 
talk against him now will talk in his favor 
by and by. You do not know your mother 
if you think that she will turn from you 
because others do. When you most need 
her, she will be most faithful.” 

It did come out, and many in the village 
were talking about Tom Bard stealing mon 


346 


TOM BARD. 


ey. Driving through the street one day, he 
heard boys call out, 

“ Hallo, ten-dollar bill ! Where are you 
going with that horse?” 

At first Tom felt like fighting the boys ; 
then the tears came. For a moment he 
wished himself dead, but better thoughts 
came. Fortunately, he saw Harry Meyer 
on the street. Harry was ready at once 
to ride with him. 

“ It’s all out, Harry,” said Tom, dolefully. 

“It seems so,” replied Harry. “It will 
all come out right, Tom. Just wait and 
hold on.” 

“It is easier to say ‘ hold on ’ than it is to 
do it, I tell you,” answered Tom. “ If you 
heard boys yelling it out at you from the 
street, as I did now, about your stealing, 
you would know how hard it is. I felt like 
fighting the boys at first ; then I wished I 
was dead. I feel like running away now.” 

“ Don’t you do that, Tom,” said Harry, 
laying his hand on his friend’s arm and 
looking up into his face; “don’t do any 
of ’em. If you run away, everybody will 
think you have stolen ; if you fight about 


TOM'S TRIAL. 


347 


it, they’ll think it’s sure. Then lots of 
people will say a fighting boy would just 
as lief steal as not. You see, when a boy 
does one bad thing, people think he is ready 
to do everything wrong. And, old boy,” 
added Harry, with a twinkle in his eye, 
“don’t die just now; it isn’t the best 
time. It won’t suit your friends ; you 
will leave them to stand up for you when 
you get down. It would put the minister 
in an awful fix to preach your funeral ser- 
mon now.” 

Tom could not help smiling at Harry, 
and before the two boys separated Tom 
was almost cheerful again. Harry’s part- 
ing words — “ Depend on it, old boy, this 
thing will all come right, and you’ll some 
day feel glad that you have been tried. 
Don’t run away; don’t fight; don’t die 
just yet” — kept in his mind; and, in 
spite of himself, Tom found himself whis- 
tling. 

It did come right — soon too, and in a 
way that no one expected. 

A few evenings after the talk between 
the boys, a man came into Mr. Rowland’s 


348 


TOM BARD. 


Store and asked for the “boss,” saying, as 
Mr. Rowland appeared, 

“ Did your boy steal a ten-dollar bill from 
you some time ago ?” 

“ I do not know that he did,” replied Mr. 
Rowland. 

“And I know that he did not,” said the 
man, emphatically. “Here’s that ten-dollar 
bill. I ought to be kicked for it.” 

“What! did you take it?” asked Mr. 
Rowland. 

“No, but I kept it,” replied the man. 
“ I’ll tell you all about it ; I feel as mean 
as a dog about it too. Some time ago my 
wife bought a dollar’s worth of things here 
at night, and she gave you a two-dollar bill. 
You gave what you, and she too, thought 
was a dollar in change. She put it in her 
pocket, and when she came home she found 
that it was a ten-dollar bill. We are poor ; 
times are hard ; we know that you are a 
liberal man and do not grudge money to 
poor people; and — Well, the fact is we 
don’t often get a ten-dollar bill ; so says 
r to my wife, ‘We’ll just keep it; he will 
hardly miss it at all.’ But we didn’t spend 


TOM'S TRIAL. 


349 


it; somehow, we couldn’t. More’n once 
she has said to me that we must take that 
money back, but I told her we would wait. 
I wanted the money, yet did not dare keep 
it. Well, this evening at the supper-table 
the children said that they heard your boy 
had stolen ten dollars from the store at one 
time and five at another, and that maybe 
he’d have to go to jail. When wife heard 
that, she just looked at me ; and I didn’t 
need to hear more. But I did hear little 
Ed say, ‘ I don’t want Tom Bard to go to 
jail; he gives us a ride when he isn’t in a 
hurry. He’s good, too. — Poppy, you won’t 
let him go to jail, will you ?’ I couldn’t bear 
any more, but just grabbed that bill and 
ran all the way here. I don’t know about 
the five dollars, but I don’t believe that 
your boy stole it. I did worse than steal 
the ten dollars, because I have made him 
bear the blame of it. I feel as though I 
ought to be kicked all through the town. 
That young fellow’s been doing kind things 
for my young ones, and I’ve paid back by 
having him called a thief. Mean is no 
word for it. I want to make it right, sir ; 


350 


7^0M BARD. 


how can I ? Fll do anything for him, or for 
you either.’* 

I do not know that you can do anything 
more than you have done,” answered Mr. 
Rowland, “ except to tell Tom about it 
and let the people know that he is as 
honest a boy as ever lived. You should 
tell the people whom you meet that the 
money was paid to your wife through a 
mistake. Yes, and say, too, that I made 
the mistake, and — and” — Mr. Rowland hes- 
itated — “ and tell them that I was the one 
who — who allowed the blame to rest on 
Tom Bard.” 

“ I can’t say that, sir,” replied the man. 
“ By keeping him in your service you have 
shown that you do not believe he is a thief.” 

“That is true,” replied Mr. Rowland, 
“but I did suspect him, and allowed oth- 
ers to suspect him too, and that without 
sufficient reason. I have not been fair to 
Tom. I let him suppose that I did not 
think him guilty, and I let two or three 
things that should hardly weigh against 
him at all outweigh the whole of his 
honest life. No, I have wronged Tom 


TOM^S TRIAL. 35 I 

Bard more than you have ; and I mean 
to have it made right, too.’* 

The next morning Mr. Rowland called 
Tom to him and said, 

“ Tom, can you forgive me ? I have 
done you a great wrong. I thought that 
you had taken that money, and have also 
allowed others to think so.” 

“ Have you found the money, Mr. Row- 
land?” asked Tom, eagerly. 

“Yes,” replied his employer; and he re- 
peated the story told by the man. “ Now, 
Tom,” said he, “ I am ashamed to look you 
in the face. I might have ruined you. Can 
you, will you, forgive me ?” 

“Mr. Rowland,” said Tom, “you treated 
me as though you thought me honest; you 
did not want to think me guilty. You had 
some reason to suppose that I had taken the 
money. I don’t see how you are so much 
to blame. It was hard to bear, but I knew 
that I was innocent, and that it would come 
out all right. Now that it is all right, I for- 
give everybody. I did not feel hard toward 
you. But have you heard about that five- 
dollar bill ?” 


352 


rOM BARD. 


“No,” said Mr. Rowland; “but that too 
will be all right some day. You have had 
a hard trial ; you stood it well, and have 
proved yourself a man. You have treated 
me far better than I have treated you ; I 
will never forget it. I mean to let people 
know the whole story, and I want you to do 
me a favor : I wish you to accept this sav- 
ings’ bank book and the one hundred and 
fifty dollars deposited in your name.” 

“ What for, Mr. Rowland ? It is not mine. 
I have not earned it.” 

“ No matter. Take it as evidence that I 
want to make amends.” 

“Mr. Rowland,” said Tom, stepping back 
a little, “ I can’t take that money. I am only 
a boy yet, but I am near enough to being 
a man to know that when a man’s reputa- 
tion is hurt money can’t heal it. All I ask 
is that you will let folks know that I am 
honest, and that after this you will not 
think me guilty until you are sure.” 

“Tom,” said Mr. Rowland, slowly, “you 
are right. I won’t ask you to take this; 
forgive me for offering it. No money can 
make amends for injury to reputation.” 


TOJVrS TRIAL. 


353 


Mr. Rowland did try to make reparation 
in a better way. That night, at the weekly 
prayer-meeting, he told the story of Tom’s 
trial, and confessed his own wrong in such 
a way that the people all thought more 
than ever both of him and of Tom. 

All Tom’s mother said when he told her 
about the bill being found was, 

“ The Lord did not allow you to be tried 
very long, my boy. He can be trusted.” 
Harry Meyer said, 

“ Well, old boy, you won’t get ready to 
leave the village yet, hey? Guess you’ve 
got ahead of us fellows. Your reputation 
is fixed now; no one can put you down. 

# Well, I’m glad. Go ahead, old fellqw ; and 
when you get up so high in the world that 
you can’t see the rest of us, just look at me 
once in a while through a telescope, and you 
will see me pointing to you and saying, ‘The 
Lord tried him and found he could stand it, 
so he put him ahead.’ ” 

Everybody was Tom’s friend after that. 
No, not everybody; there were a few who 
shook their heads and said, 

“ Don’t be too sure about him. That 


23 


354 


TOM BARD. 


five-dollar bill has never been found. Mr. 
Rowland is making too much of that fel- 
low ; he will regret it some day.’' 

But the five-dollar bill also came to light, 
and in such a way that even Mr. Barmore 
was convinced that Tom was honest. 

One day Mr. Rowland and all his em- 
ployes were busy taking account of stock, 
when Tom suddenly called out, 

“ See here ! I’ve found a mouse-nest 
behind these old boxes. — See here, John 
Green !” 

John took the nest and pulled it apart. 

“ What is this ?” said he as he drew a bit 
of paper from the inside. “ It’s money. 
That mpuse must have been rich. It’s a • 
five-dollar bill. — Look at it, Mr. Barmore. 
— See, Mr. Rowland. It is nearly all here. 
The mouse meant to have a nice lining for 
her nest.” 

“A five-dollar bill !” repeated Mr. Bar- 
more, taking it from John’s hands. — “ Mr. 
Rowland ! Tom ! here is the missing five- 
dollar bill that I thought you had stolen. I 
was wrong; I believed it. Yes, I was wrong. 
Forgive me, Tom.” 


TOM'S TRIAL. 


355 


Mr. Barniore was a man of few words, 
and it cost him a great deal to make this 
confession. Tom knew it ; so he said, as 
he reached out his hand, 

“ It’s all right, Mr. Barmore ; don’t let us 
say anything more about it. You would not 
have thought me guilty if you had not had 
reason. But I must go out and water my 
horse now and Tom went out whistling, 
“ Should old acquaintance be forgot ?” As 
soon as he had watered Billy he went to 
the loft and, kneeling down, thanked God 
that at last all had come out right, and that 
he was proved innocent. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 

NE Sabbath a young missionary 



w preached in the Nortonville church 
and urged the people to give more toward 
sending the gospel to the heathen. So 
earnest was his appeal that Tom was 
nearly ready to give all the tenth of his 
month’s wages to missions. He did give 
fifty cents to the collection, but kept back 
the rest, as he said, to think about it. He 
promised the missionary, in the Sunday- 
school, to do all he could for the heathen. 

The next morning, in the store, Tom 
heard Mr. Medow talking to Mr. Rowland, 
his employer, about the sermon of the mis- 
sionary. 

“A good sermon that,” said Mr. Medow ; 
“but then we must not forget our heathen 
at home. I say let us take care of them 


first.” 


356 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. SS7 

“ Can’t we take care of both ?” asked 
Tom, in a low voice. 

“ Hey ?” said Mr. Medow, turning to the 
boy. “ Oh yes, of course — of course ! But 
then we naturally think first of the church 
at home. I too believe, in giving for mis- 
sions, but not just now. You are young, 
Tom, but, as you are a church-member, a 
hint from an old one may not be amiss. I 
don’t give to missions now — that is, not 
much — but every year I put some money 
in the savings’ bank, where it will be draw- 
ing interest ; by and by I mean to give it 
all in a lump for the heathen. I don’t like 
to give by driblets. Save up your money, 
my boy ; keep it earning something. It 
will be all the more when you give it.” 

Mr. Medow’s hint was not forgotten. 
The more Tom thought of it, the more 
did he like the plan. 

“ That’s a good way,” said he to himself 
at night after he had gone to his little room. 
“ Save money for the heathen ; let it earn 
interest; add to it every year — every month 
will be better for me — and when it is a large 
sum send it all at once. Then it will do 


358 


TOM BARD. 


good, and enough to make it worth while. 
Yes, sir: that’ll be my way. But I can 
beat Mr. Medow. I’ll leave it in the sav- 
ings’ bank until I am able to go into busi- 
ness myself, and then I’ll use that as the 
Lord’s capital. It will gain faster in busi- 
ness than in the savings’ bank, and when 
I’m old or go out of business I’ll just turn 
all the Lord’s money, capital and interest, 
over in a lump to missions. My ! what a 
sum there will be ! I wouldn’t wonder if 
it should be a hundred thousand dollars ; 
for I mean to be rich some day. One 
hundred thousand dollars I That will help 
the missionaries. And won’t it do good, 
though !” 

Thinking over his plans, Tom went to 
bed and was soon asleep. He dreamed, 
and thought himself an old man. His 
mother was dead and his brother Jimmy 
was in business, becoming a rich man; he 
himself had just retired from business 
worth millions of dollars. Instead of 
giving only the principal and the interest 
of the Lord’s money to missions, he de- 
termined to give the half of all his wealth ; 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 359 

but before giving it he started on a voyage 
tasome heathen countries to see where the 
money was most needed. The sailing-ves- 
sel in which he went was delayed by calms 
and storms, and before land was sighted the 
water for drinking was used up. Parched 
and burning with thirst, some of the sailors 
became mad, and, plunging into the sea, 
were drowned. 

After sailing for some days with nothing 
to quench their craving, maddening thirst, 
Tom and those who survived came in sight 
of land. As soon as they were near the 
shore, hardly taking time to furl the sails 
or to cast anchor, all who were able jumped 
into the boats and hurried to the shore fpr 
water. There a strange sight appeared. 
The people were famishing and dying — 
many of them already dead. The few 
who were able to walk told the sailors 
that all were dying from thirst. There 
was a fearful drought, and the wells, the 
springs, the streams of fresh water, — all 
were gone. 

Tom, with the captain, started inland on 
a search for water. After going some dis- 


360 


TOM BARD. 


tance they found a great lake almost full 
of clear, pure, fresh water, but it was so 
closely surrounded and guarded by sol- 
diers that no one could get a drop to 
drink. Tom and the captain begged the 
commander of the soldiers to let them 
have a drink. 

“ Certainly,” said he ; “ drink all you 
wish.” 

After satisfying his thirst, Tom asked 
the commander why the water was so 
closely guarded and the people left to 
die of thirst. 

“ Oh,” said the officer, “ we are waiting 
until the lake is full. We have turned 
every stream and every spring into it, 
and the lake is slowly filling up. As 
soon as it overflows we will let the peo- 
ple have all they can drink.” 

“But they are dying. Some are dead 
already; soon all will be dead,” urged 
Tom. “Why not let them drink now 
and live ?” 

“I am sorry for them,” replied the offi- 
cer; “but they must wait until the supply 
is greater. If they will only wait, they 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HE A THE H, 36 1 

shall soon have plenty, and more than 
they can drink.” 

In vain Tom and the captain pleaded 
with the commander to give water to the 
dying people. 

“Will you give us some for our own 
men ?” asked the captain. 

“Certainly,” was the reply; “as much as 
you want.” 

Tom thought it very strange that the 
commander cared more for foreigners than 
for his own people, and asked the reason. 

“ Oh, we are only heathen,” he answered. 
“We do not act as you do in your country.” 

After all the water needed for the rest 
of the voyage had been taken on board, 
Tom’s ship sailed from this country. He 
could not help wondering at the strange 
conduct of those heathen. A few days’ 
sailing brought them into the harbor of 
another country. 

Tom went on shore and found here a 
nation of colored people. There was a 
look of sadness and despondency on each 
face ; but when they saw him, each at once 
brightened up as some cried out. 


362 


TOM BARD. 


“ Oh, the white man has come I The 
white man has come !” 

They gathered around him eagerly and • 
asked, 

“ Have you brought it? Have you brought 
the living water ?” 

“ ‘ Water ’ ? ‘ Living water ’ ? What water 
do you mean ?” asked Tom. 

“The water you have in your country. 
We have none of it here,” was the reply. 

“ Our own is dirty and brackish ; it does 
not satisfy. We drink, and drink again, 
and grow thirsty by drinking. We have 
dug in the valleys, on the hillsides and 
on the mountain-tops, hoping to find good, 
satisfying water, but everywhere it is the 
same. Our water is growing worse year 
by year, and we are slowly dying from 
thirst or from drinking this. Many years 
ago men from your country brought us 
some to taste ; it was so sweet and satis- 
fying to the soul that we have ever since 
longed and thirsted for it. Have you 
brought us some ?” 

“ No,” answered Tom ; “ I did not bring 
any. I did not know you wanted it.” 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 363 

“ ‘ Did not know ’ !” repeated one and 
another, in surprise. “Yet we sent word 
by every ship, begging some in your coun- 
try to bring us the living water. Many years 
ago a white man stopped here and promised 
to tell all whom he met. Some time after, 
he returned, and, stopping here on his way 
to another country, said that many children 
had promised to send the living water from 
their country. Did you promise ?” 

For a while Tom was silent. What did 
the people mean? Then he remembered 
his promise, when a boy, to the young mis- 
sionary, and somehow, in his dream, the liv- 
ing water seemed to be the gospel. 

“Yes,’' said he, when he had thought it 
all over ; “ I did promise ; but I waited 
until I had enough to help you all.” 

“ Oh, why did you wait so long ?” asked 
the people. 

“ It would have been so little,” replied 
Tom, “ that I did not wish to give until that 
little had grown to be a good deal.” 

“ Did you bring it ?” they asked, eagerly. 

“ No,” he answered ; “ I came to see 
whether you wanted any.” 


364 


TOM BARD. 


“He did not bring any! He came to 
see I” said one who was a leader among 
the people ; while the others looked first 
at this man and then at Tom, as if they 
could not understand. 

“You came to see?*' said this leader. 
“ Come, white man, and you shall see.’* 
He led Tom into one of the houses in the 
village, and, pointing to two old people, 
wasted to skeletons, lying on a wretched 
bed on the floor, said, “See, white man, 
see I” 

On hearing the words “ white man ” the 
old couple raised their thin forms and 
asked, anxiously, 

“ Has he come ?” 

“Yes; he is here,” replied the leader. 

“ Did he bring the water — the living wa- 
ter?” they asked. “We cannot drink of 
this. We are dying. Oh, give us one 
drink — only a taste — of the pure water 
before our lips close for ever.” 

“ He did not bring it,” said the leader ; 
“he only came to see if we wanted it.” 

“ ‘ Only came to see ’ !” echoed the aged 
people. “ Did not he believe our message? 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 365 

Must we die without even a sight of the 
living water ?” 

“I will go for it at once,” said Tom. 

“Too late! Too late for us I” they 
sighed. “ Too late for ever I — He only 
came to see !” groaned one to the other 
as they sank back exhausted. 

“ Let us go farther,” said the leader to 
Tom ; and he led him to other homes. In 
each there were some sick, dying or dead. 
Tom could hear the sick murmur softly or 
whisper, 

“Water! Living water! One cup! 
Only a drink ! ' Will no one come to 
bring it?” 

His heart grew sick, and at length he 
refused to go any farther. 

“ I cannot bear any more,'^ said he. 
“ Let me go to my own country at once.- 
I will send the water.” 

“If the white man will let me .show him 
one more place,” spoke the leader — “a 
place where none cry for water, where 
none want it — then he may go.” 

He led Tom to a very large temple on 
a hill. • This building had a' number of gal- 


366 


TOM BARD. 


leries one above the other, and each a lit- 
tle farther back than the other ; so that it 
appeared like a great amphitheatre. The 
man took Tom into the lower gallery and 
showed him a great multitude of wasted 
skeletons lying side by side all the way 
around the circular gallery. 

“ Do you see these ?” asked the guide. 

“Yes,” replied Tom, in a frightened whis- 
per. 

“ These died thirsting for the living water. 
The gallery above is filled as this ; so is the 
next, and the next, and the next. They 
perished while you waited to send.” 

“ Oh, take me out. Let me leave this 
place,” cried Tom. 

“White man,” said the leader as they 
passed out of the temple into the open 
air, “ it is not to give you sorrow that we 
show you these. We know that you are 
our friend, but you did not think. You did 
not mean to let us die, but while you wait- 
ed these died. They cry for water no 
more. Offer it to them, and they will not 
heed ; touch their lips with the living water, 
yet they move not. These are for ever be- 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 367 

yond its life-giving power; to their number 
we are daily adding as we fill gallery after 
gallery. While you delay we are filling 
this temple of death. We know that you 
needed but to see; we have shown. Now 
our hearts go with you. We know that 
soon you will send us the living water.” 

Hurriedly, anxiously, Tom went to the 
ship ; and, offering the captain a large sum 
of money to take him at once to America, 
he was soon on his way home. 

After sailing a number of days the ship 
came in sight of land, and for a few hours 
they stopped at another strange country. 
Tom went on shore with some of the sail- 
ors. As soon as the people saw that they 
were white men they came with a hearty 
welcome to meet them. One of these 
islanders — for this strange country was 
an island — an old man, came eagerly to 
Tom, as though he knew him, but, seeing 
that it was a stranger, stopped. Then, 
coming slowly to him, the old man asked, 
“ Do you love the Saviour ?” 

“Yes,” said Tom, glad to find some one 
who seemed to be a Christian. 


368 


TOM BARD. 


“ Then you work for him and love to see 
his work prosper ?” continued the old man. 

Tom replied that he did. 

“ Come with me, then, and see what the 
Lord has done for us.” Saying this, the 
aged man led Tom to a high hill, and, 
sweeping his hand in the direction of a 
beautiful country, said, “See those farms, 
those homes and the happy people in 
them; see those school-houses filled with 
children ; and see the churches scattered 
over the country. On the Sabbath those 
churches are filled with Christian worship- 
ers. We are a happy people, and we will 
never get over thinking how good God has 
been to us. But it was not always so. 
When I was a young man there were no 
schools, no churches, no happy people, here. 
We knew nothing of the Saviour; we wor- 
shiped idols, and were an ignorant, cruel 
and wretched people. Even now my heart 
is sad when I think of the wickedness that 
was here then. Do you know how the 
change came?” 

“ No,” replied Tom, “ but I would like to 
hear about it.” 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 369 

“ I will tell you,” said the old man. % 
“ Many years ago, when I was yet a young 
man, a missionary stopped here for a day 
on his way from another country to his 
own home. He went to his native land 
and told of our idolatry and misery, and 
said that for a few dollars a month two 
native Christians from another island, 
where he was a missionary, could be 
sent here to preach the gospel and teach 
us to be happy. Two boys in a Sunday- 
school heard him speak, and, though they 
were not rich, they determined to save all 
the money they could — they were earning 
money — and, if they had not enough of 
their own, to ask friends to help them to 
send two Christian teachers to us. They 
had enough at the end of a year for sup- 
porting the teachers twelve months. The 
teachers came ; they worked faithfully for 
a whole year, but with no good results. 

The boys heard of this, and said that if 
the teachers gave up, the money would 
be lost. So they supported them another 
and yet another year for four years, in the 
mean while praying often that God would 

24 


370 


TOM BARD. 


not let their hard-earned money be given 
for nothing. At the end of the four years 
myself and two others believed and became 
Christians. By this time the boys had be- 
come men and were making money rapidly. 
They sent to the missionaries who had come 
here to baptize us, requesting them to send 
me to America to be educated, that I might 
be the better fitted to preach the gospel to 
my people. I went, was educated by those 
men, came back, and have ever since preached 
the gospel and taught the people here. Now, 
through what others as well as myself have 
done, our island is a Christian island and 
very many of the people love the Saviour. 
All this was brought about, by God’s mercy, 
because of what those boys began. I have 
not seen them for many years ; they are old 
men now. Some time ago they wrote me 
that they were about giving up their busi- 
ness and meant to come here to see what 
God had done for us. When I saw you, an 
old man, come ashore, I thought you were 
one of them ; but I am glad to see you, and 
to show you the results of their work. Per- 
haps there is some other country that has 


TOM DREAMS ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 37 1 

been blessed by what you did when a boy, 
and it may be that you have been, or are 
now going, to see your work.” 

Tom could hardly speak, but at length he 
said, 

“No; I did almost nothing for the heathen 
when I was a boy.” 

“What! Nothing?” said the old man, 
sadly. “Then you did not love the Sav- 
iour when you were a boy.” 

“Yes, I did,” replied Tom, “but I waited 
to give until — until I was old and had plenty 
to give.” 

“While you waited,” continued the old 
man, “those two gave year by year;” then, 
pointing to the homes, the schools, the 
churches, “And see what they, by God’s 
blessing, have done. And yet, through 
all those years, you, though a Christian, 
did nothing to tell the lost heathen of a 
Saviour. You waited; now you are an 
old man, your life nearly ended, and noth- 
ing done yet — nothing, nothing, nothing!” 

With each repetition of the word the 
voice of the old man grew louder, until 
Tom awoke. It was all a dream. He 


372 


TOM BARD. 


was lying in his bed in his mother’s home, 
and was yet a poor boy. 

“Well,” said he, when thoroughly aroused, 
“that’s a queer dream; I don’t want any 
more like it. I’m glad it’s only a dream. 
But it seems to me that Mr. Medow’s plan 
and mine might make it too much like a 
reality some day. It has taught me more 
than one lesson, though. It was foolish in 
me to think that I could take better care of 
the Lord’s money than he can. Besides, 
while I might be using it in my business, 
the Lord’s business would be neglected. 
Not only that: souls would perish. Oh, 
it is dreadful to think of those poor peo- 
ple dying with thirst and a lake full of 
good water refused them. And then 
those dying colored people, and that tem- 
ple of death! I can’t think of it! — No, 
Tom Bard; Mr. Medow’s plan won’t do. 
Those two boys are the men for you.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 



HEN Tom had worked for Mr. 


V V Rowland about a year, his em- 
ployer called him into his private office 
one day and said, 

“Tom, I have an errand of importance 
for you to do. I must send some money 
to the city to-day. I can’t go ; it is too 
late for the express from our station, so I 
will send you to Branton to ship it from 
there by the noon express on the other 


line. 


“All right, sir,” said Tom. “ When shall 
I start?” 

“In an hour,” replied Mr. Rowland. 
“ But, to tell the truth, I am almost afraid 
to send you with it.” 

“Don’t you trust me, Mr. Rowland?” 
asked Tom, in surprise. 


373 


374 


TOM BARD. 


“Trust you, my boy? Of course I do. 
But some one might stop you on the way. 
It is a lonely road to town, and of late I 
have noticed suspicious-looking strangers 
around ; they might rob you.” 

“ Give me Billy, Mr. Rowland, and the 
light truck-wagon, and I’d like to see the 
man that could stop us.” 

“Very well; I’ll have the package ready 
in an hour. Be at the store then with Billy 
and the light truck-wagon.” 

At the appointed time Tom, with the 
package in a box under the seat, drove 
old Billy ofif for Branton. He had not 
gone far when he overtook a lame* man 
walking with a cane. 

“ Hey, young man !” said the traveler ; 
“hold up and give me a lift. I’m tired, 
and am afraid I’ll give out before I get to 
town.” 

Tom’s first impulse was to stop, but the 
thought came to him that this might be one 
of the suspicious men of whom Mr. Row- 
land spoke; so, without stopping, he said, 
“ I’m in a hurry,” and was about whipping 
up old Billy, when he saw an empty sleeve 



Tom Ims more company than he wants 


Page 375 








I 


t 


» 


^ 9 


V Y' '‘V 








j 


r 

^ 


1 • 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 3/5 

hang from the man’s shoulder. That empty 
sleeve was a plea that Tom’s heart could not 
resist. In a moment the whip was in its socket, 
and Tom, pulling hard at the reins, called out, 
“Whoa, Billy!” and the wagon stood still. “I 
guess it’s safe to let you ride,” said Tom. 
“ Get in and take a seat.” 

“ Thank you,” said the stranger. “ I am 
very tired. You’ll find me a safe passen- 
ger. I could not hurt you much if I tried, 
with only one arm and a leg pretty well 
used up.” 

The man took his seat beside the driver 
and proved good company. He kept Tom 
interested until they reached a wood, where 
they came up with a man walking slowly. 
As Tom was driving by, this man called, 

“ Hold up, boy I Give me a ride.” 

“ No time to stop,” shouted Tom as he 
hurried Billy with a touch of the whip. 

“If that’s all, then I’ll just help myself 
in,” said the man as he caught hold of the 
hind part of the wagon and scrambled in. 

Tom was a little frightened. He did not 
like the looks of the man, but thought it 
best to say nothing. 


376 


TOM BARD. 


“You are an uncivil fellow,” continued 
the man when comfortably seated in the 
back part of the wagon, “not to give a 
tired traveler a ride, when you have an 
empty wagon and a good horse.” 

“ I am in a hurry,” replied Tom, “ and had 
no time to stop.” 

“Well, you must stop now,” said the 
other, “ and take in that fellow yonder. 
He looks tired.” 

“ I won’t,” answered Tom as he struck 
the horse a sharp blow with the whip. 

“Yes, you will,” replied the stranger; 
and he caught the reins from Tom’s hands 
and stopped the horse. 

“ See here !” shouted Tom, angrily, as he 
jerked the reins away, but not soon enough 
to prevent the third passenger taking a place 
with him ; “ this thing has got to stop. I’m not 
driving a stage. You two have no business 
in this wagon.” 

“ Be quiet, sonny,” said the last man, sit- 
ting beside the other; “ it’s all right. You 
drive on and keep your mouth shut. But 
what have you got in that box under the 
seat 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 37 / 


Tom made no answer. 

Don’t you hear? What’s in that 
box ?” 

As Tom remained silent, the man spoke 
again : 

“I want to know what you’ve got in that 
box. Ain’t you going to tell, youngster?” 

“You told me to keep my mouth shut,” 
answered Tom ; “ I’m doing it.” 

“ Good boy ! Minds well,” said he. “Just 
keep it shut and ’tend to your horse. We 
won’t ask about the box, but will look for 
ourselves.” Then, turning to his comrade, 
he said, “ Let’s look what’s in. Something 
good to eat. I’ll bet. I’m hungry; let’s 
help ourselves;” and with that he pulled 
the box toward him. “Nothing good to 
eat in there,” said he ; “ it’s heavy.” 

“Let that box alone,” spoke up Tom 
as he saw the men handling it. “ Let 
it alone, I tell you, or I’ll make you do 
it.” 

“ What’s in it ?” asked one of the men. 

“No matter what is in it,” replied Tom; 
“it is’ not yours.” 

“ If you won’t tell, we’ll see,” muttered 


378 


TOM BARD. 


the man as he tried to pull the cover from 
the box. 

“See here, men,” spoke the one-armed 
man, who had been silent since the two 
got in, “ why can’t you let the box alone ? 
You’re getting a ride, and you ought to 
be thankful for that, without bothering the 
one who takes you.” 

“ Keep your mouth shut, old fellow!” said 
one of the men. “Guess you and the young- 
ster have been stealing, and now you are 
trying to get off. As likely as not you’ve 
borrowed this horse and wagon and will 
forget to take them back. I almost think 
that we ought to arrest you. Any way, 
we’ll see what you have got.” 

Tom saw that the two meant mischief, 
but felt sure that the lame man was his 
friend. As he eyed the two rogues more 
closely he saw that they were drinking 
men and not strong. Boy though he 
was, he determined that he would fight 
them both if they attempted to rob him. 
If he could in some way get rid of one, 
he was certain that he could master the 
other. He noticed that one of the girths 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 379 

was not tightly buckled, and, turning to 
the men, said, 

“Will one of you please tighten that 
girth while I hold the horse?” 

“No, you don’t, sonny!” replied one. 
“ Fasten your own girths.” 

“ ’S all right,” said the other ; “ I’ll fasten 
it if you’ll tell what’s in the box.” 

Feeling sure that the men would find 
out if he could not get rid of one of 
them, Tom replied: 

“There’s money in it. Now will you 
please fasten the girth?” 

The two looked at each other, and then 
spoke a few words in a whisper. After 
that, one turned to Tom and said, 

“ Look here, young fellow I we want 
money, and we want it bad. You like 
money too. We’ll take this box and give 
you and the old fellow with you a share; 
then you can say that we thrashed you 
and took the money away.” 

“ Don’t do it,” whispered the lame man 
to Tom. “ Keep your eyes open ; we will 
fix ’em yet.” 

“ I don’t take other people’s money,” said 


38 o 


TOM BARD. 


Tom ; “ and if you get a dollar out of that 
box, it will be after 1 can’t fight any more. 
That money was given into my charge, and 
I just give you men warning that I mean to 
take care of it.” 

Tom’s manner more than his words made 
the men hesitate. His determined look and 
flashing eye told them that he was not a boy 
to be trifled with, and that he would strug- 
gle to the very last for his charge. The 
two whispered again as Tom hurried old 
Billy on, and then one said, 

“ Oh, well, we won’t make any row about 
it. If he don’t want us to see what is in 
his box, we Can get along without know- 
ing;” then, turning to Tom, he added, 
“Say, young fellow, you seem plucky, and 
we don’t want to hurt you. Just stop a 
minute and let us talk about it.” 

“ I’ll stop,” replied Tom, “ if one of you 
will get out and tighten that girth.” 

“All right,” said the man who had agreed 
before to fasten it; “you stop and I’ll fix 
it.” 

Billy was stopped, and the man began 
drawing the strap tighter, meanwhile ask- 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 38 1 

ing Tom questions to keep his attention. 
As this one got out the lame man whis- 
pered to Tom, 

“Now’s our time. Let me drive while 
you keep an eye on the other one.” 

Tom did not understand the meaning of 
the lame man, who, seeing the boy watch 
the rogue on the ground, kept his own eye 
fixed on the one in the wagon. This one 
was quietly pushing the box to the tail- 
board with his feet, intending, when it was 
near enough, to jump out and then take 
the box. 

As the thief was ready to rise from his 
sitting position to carry out his plan the 
lame man, pulling Tom around, shouted, 

“ Go for the scamp in the wagon ! I’ll 
drive.” 

Tom turned, and in a moment he under- 
stood the whole plan. Without saying a 
word, he sprang for the box. At the same 
time the lame man hit Billy a severe blow 
with the whip. The horse plunged forward 
with a tremendous leap, knocking down the 
man fastening the girth and hurting him 
badly. The sudden start of the horse 


382 


rOM BARD. 


threw the thief in the wagon across the 
box and Tom on top of him. Neither of 
them was hurt, but the jumping of the 
wagon drawn by the frightened horse pre- 
vented their rising. 

As soon as Tom could get his breath 
after Billy ran more slowly he said, 

“ So you meant to steal the box, did you, 
you thief?” and he struck the man a severe 
blow. 

Though taken at a disadvantage, the ras- 
cal was not easily overcome. He strug- 
gled to throw Tom off, and at last suc- 
ceeded, and might have overpowered the 
boy had not Tom’s friend, the lame man, 
been ready to help. After starting the 
horse he had kept a close watch on the 
two in the back of the wagon. Seeing 
that Tom might get the worst of the bat- 
tle, the lame man took the reins in his 
teeth and, reaching his cane to the boy, 
said, 

“Here, take this. Hit him with it. He’s 
a thief.” 

Tom grasped the cane and hit the rascal 
on his left arm, as with his right fist the 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 383 

thief Struck the boy a severe blow in the 
face. Startled at the sight of his own 
blood, Tom struck the man on his head 
with the cane. Uttering a groan, the 
rogue fell down in the wagon. 

“ Oh, I have killed him ! I have killed 
him!” cried the boy. ‘^What shall I do?” 

“ He is not dead,” said Tom’s friend. 
“You couldn’t kill him with that stick. 
Rogues don’t die so easy as that. Pity 
you hadn’t killed him, though. ’Twould 
be a good thing if both them scamps 
were dead ; such fellows don’t deserve to 
live. He’ll be all right by and by. Guess 
the other one will feel like going home when 
he gets up. The wagon hit him hard. I tell 
you, this horse can get up about as much 
go in a half-second’s notice as any horse 
I ever saw. Good horse I He pulled you 
out of a bad scrape. But say: if there’s 
money in that box, what makes it so 
heavy ? Bills are not heavy.” 

“I suppose that it is silver that Mr. Row- 
land wants to send to the city and must 
reach there to-day. But what shall we do 
with this man?” 


384 


TOM BARD. 


“Just let him alone; only keep an eye 
on him.” 

The horse had lost his fright and was 
trotting slowly along. Indeed, after the 
furious start, he ran only a little distance 
before he came down to a steady, quiet 
trot. The man who had been left behind 
was far out of sight, and the one in the 
wagon remained insensible. 

“ Had we not better hurry on ?” said 
Tom, going to take his seat. “ Fm afraid 
this man may die. Let us take him to a 
doctor.” 

“ Better take him to prison, where he be- 
longs,” answered the lame man. “ But you 
had better watch him ; maybe he’s playing 
’possum and’ll slip out yet. I’ll drive.” 

“ But what if he should die ?” asked Tom, 
anxiously. 

“He won’t die. That fellow is a high- 
way-robber ; you fought him in self-de- 
fence ; you got the best of him ; he’s 
your prisoner now ; so you’d better take 
him to town and have him locked up. I’ll 
be a witness for you.” 

“Will you?” said Tom, eagerly. “And 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 385 

you’ll say that I did it to protect the money, 
and not because I wanted to hurt him ? I’m 
sorry I hit him so hard, poor fellow ! but 
I couldn’t let him steal Mr. Rowland’s 
money.” 

“That’s all right,” replied the other. “If 
you hadn’t knocked him over, he would have 
got the better of you, and of me too, and run 
off with the money in the bargain. You’re 
a brave fellow, and would make a good sol- 
dier. But we’ll have to tie that chap fast, 
or he may get away. Have you a rope 
or anything?” 

“ Here’s the strap with which I tie the 
horse,” said Tom, taking a leather strap 
from the bottom of the wagon. “Will this 
do ?” 

“That is good, but it will tie only his legs 
or his arms ; we must tie both.’^ 

“ I can get the check-rein.” 

“That’ll do; get it. We’ll stop the horse. 
We can tie the scamp better.” 

Billy was stopped and the man securely 
fastened. 

“This is awful work,” said Tom. “To 
think that I should knock a man senseless 


25 


TOM BARD. 


386 

and then tie him fast in my wagon ! It just 
makes me sick.” 

“ It would have been more awful if you 
hadn’t knocked him senseless, I tell you, 
my boy. But let’s make the rascal as 
comfortable as we can. We can ride the 
rest of the way without the cushion ; we’ll 
put that under his head.” 

The still senseless man was made as 
comfortable as possible, and after Tom 
had washed the blood from his own face 
in a little pond by the roadside he took 
his seat and hurried old Billy on to town. 
They had not gone far when the prisoner 
began to move, and Tom and his compan- 
ion saw that the thief was recovering his 
senses. Soon he called to them after he 
understood where he was: 

“ What are you going to do with me ?” 

“ Take you to prison,” said the lame 
man. 

“ Oh, don’t do that !” begged the pris- 
oner; “let me go. I won’t trouble you, 
and I’ll just get out of the State if you’ll 
*let up on me now.” 

Had Tom been alone, he probably would 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 387 

have let the man go, for he was too tender- 
hearted, brave though he was in danger, to 
refuse to pity and help any one in distress. 

“ No, you don’t,” replied the lame man. 
“ The State wants just such fellows as you 
are to work for it; board, lodging and 
clothes all free, too. You did a good 
job, after all, trying to get the box: got 
yourself in steady work for some years to 
come.” 

“ Don’t tease the poor fellow,” said Tom, 
in a low voice. “ It’s bad enough for him, 
any way. And — excuse me, sir — it don’t 
seem just right to punch a. fellow when 
he’s down, even when he tripped, him- 
self.” 

“ That’s so,” answered Tom’s companion. 

But I can hardly help feeling glad to see 
one of these fellows caught.” 

Soon they reached town, and Tom, find- 
ing that he had little time to spare, first 
attended to the expressing of his box, and 
then, directed by the lame man, took his 
prisoner to the proper officer and had him 
locked in jail to await trial for an attempt 
^at highway robbery. Tom was sorry when 


38 $ TOM BARD. 

he saw the man taken away to prison, and 
could not help saying to the officer, 

“ Don’t be too hard on him.” 

Before Tom was allowed to leave town 
he was obliged to find some men who 
knew him, and who could assure the 
magistrate that there would be no diffi- 
culty in having him appear when wanted 
as a witness against the would-be robber. 

“ That boy’ll be here when he’s wanted,” 
said the lame man. “A fellow who’ll fight 
as he did, and risk his life too, for another 
man’s money will always be where he is 
most wanted. That boy hasn’t a cowardly 
hair in his head. He knows what’s what, 
too. Any one who’ll fight as he did for 
another man’s money will do the right 
thing anywhere.” 

Tom was glad to get away, and did not 
wait even to feed old Billy, lest something 
should prevent his reaching home at all. 
When a mile from town, he drove up to a 
farmhouse and gave the horse a pail of 
water and a feed of oats. While the horse 
was eating Tom took time to think over 
the excitement of the morning. 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 389 

“ It seems worse than I thought,” said he 
to himself ; “ those fellows might have killed 
me for that money. Well, they didn’t; that’s 
one consolation. But that chap hit me awful 
hard. My head aches, my nose is swollen, 
and I feel pretty badly used up, any way, now 
that I think about it. Folks will think I’ve 
been in a fight, sure, when they see me at 
home. Had to do it, though. Wonder 
what Mr. Rowland will say when I tell 
him ? Of course I must let him know. 
Best not let mother know, though, or she 
will be afraid to let me go out again. But 
it’s the first time I’ve ever heard of such a 
thing, and I don’t believe another fellow 
will be attacked around here again in 
twenty years. I wouldn’t have been if 
those fellows hadn’t got in the wagon. I 
tried to hinder them. Come to think, I 
believe they knew about the money and 
watched for me. But they didn’t get it. 
It is a mercy that they didn’t, and didn’t 
get Tom Bard’s life too. — See here, Tom : 
your old habit of forgetting who takes care 
of you has come back. You haven’t thanked 
God once for keeping you from being robbed 


390 


TOM BARD. 


or killed. — That’s so ; and, more, I hardly 
thought about it, either. — It’s a good thing 
that God takes care of such chaps as you 
without being asked to do it each time. 
Old boy, you must thank him here and 
now. You’ll forget, just as likely as not, 
if you wait.” 

Without a moment’s deliberation, Tom’s 
head was between his hands, his elbows 
resting on his knees, and in this position, 
not wishing to kneel in sight of everybody, 
he in a low voice thanked God for preserv- 
ing him and his charge during the danger 
of the morning. After spending some time 
in this way he raised his head, saying, 

“ There ! now you feel better, don’t you ? 
It always makes a fellow feel better when 
he’s been thinking of God and the Saviour 
for a while. It is as if you were in the 
dark ; you want now and then to take 
hold of a strong hand and feel sure that 
it’s there.” 

Tom meant to take another road, though 
considerably longer, to escape going through 
the woods on his way back, for he was afraid 
he might meet the other rogue. But he 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 391 

thought that perhaps the man had been 
hurt and might *need care, as possibly no 
one had gone that way. This decided him, 
and he took the road through the woods. 
The thief was not to be seen, and Tom 
was glad of it. He did not look carefully 
anywhere except where the man had got 
out of the wagon ; for, brave as he was, 
Tom had been thoroughly frightened, and 
all he cared to do was to get home. 

When Tom reached the village his face 
was badly swollen, and he tried to keep 
from being seen. He found a great deal 
to do around the barn, but work at last 
failed, and he then went into the store. 
He knew that Mr. Rowland was away, 
and waited in the hope of seeing and tell- 
ing him the story first. Fortunately, the 
clerks were busy, and Tom escaped their 
notice. 

As soon as Mr. Rowland came back Tom 
followed him at once to his private office. 

“Well, you got back all right, I see,” 
said Mr. Rowland. “ Did you reach the 
express-office in time and send the box 
on the train ?” 


392 . 


TOM BARD. 


“Yes, sir; I got through all right,” replied 
Tom; “here’s the receipt of the expressman. ^ 
But — but — ” 

As he hesitated, Mr. Rowland looked up, 
and, seeing his swollen face for the first time, 
exclaimed, 

“Why, what’s the matter with your face, 
Tom? It’s all swollen. You’ve been hurt. 
How did it happen ?” 

“ That’s wh^ I came in to tell you, sir ;” 
and Tom told the story of his fight with 
the thief. 

For a moment his employer looked the 
boy in the face, but his honest eye and 
steady look told Mr. Rowland that Tom 
was speaking the truth. 

“Tom,” said he, “I believe you; but, had 
any other boy than Tom Bard told me such 
a story, I would want better proof than his 
own word. Yes, it is just like you. I be- 
lieve you would die for others and then 
think nothing of it.” 

“ Couldn’t think much of it then,” said 
Tom, laughing more at Mr. Rowland’s 
manner than at what he said. “ But I 
guess those fellows would not have killed 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER, 393 

me. They didn’t, any way, and they 
didn’t get the money. I’m glad of that.” 

“ So am I, but I am more glad that they 
did not hurt you worse. Men who try to 
rob in that way do not often hesitate about 
taking life if it comes between them and 
money. You are a brave fellow, Tom; 
your bravery has saved me a large sum. 
You deserve a reward for risking your life 
to save my money.” 

“ Mr. Rowland, I don’t fight robbers for 
pay. I didn’t think about making anything 
by saving your money. I fought and saved 
it because you gave it into my care, because 
I am working for you, because I like you, 
and because it was my business to take 
care of your property. That’s what you 
pay me for, and I don’t want mpney that 
I don’t earn.” 

“If any one ever earned extra wages, 
Tom, you have to-day; and 3^ou must let 
me pay you. What kind of a man do you 
suppose people will think me if I let you 
fight and get half killed while protecting 
my money, and yet give nothing to show 
that I appreciate you ?” 


394 


TOM BARD. 


“ Mr. Rowland, is giving money the only 
way that folks take to show how they ap- 
preciate ?” 

“No, Tom; and yet the world under- 
stands that way better than it does any 
other. I am a business man, and must 
not only deal fairly with the world, but 
must keep the good opinion of those with 
whom I deal. So, if you will not look at 
it in any other way, you must, as in my 
service, look at it in a business way, and 
just let me hand you a hundred dollars as 
a mark of my satisfaction with you.” 

“You are very good, Mr. Rowland, but 
I can’t take money that I did not fairly 
earn. I only did my duty.” 

“Supposing you had been badly hurt, 
Tom — so much so that you could not 
work again for a month. Would you 
have allowed me to pay you wages for 
the time you were laid up ?” 

“Yes, sir, for I would have got hurt 
through serving you and saving your 
property.” ^ 

“All right ; so my property must pay the 
cost of being cared for. If it must share 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 395 

the losses — in fact, bear the cost of repair- 
ing all losses to the one who cared for it — 
why should it not share the gains with the 
one who took risks with and for it?” 

“ See here, Mr. Rowland : you can easily 
* wind me up ’ in an argument. All I know 
about it is this : you hire me to take care 
of your property ; you pay me regular 
wages for that work ; and I have no right 
to any more than I agreed to take. If I 
get hurt through no fault of mine, because 
doing your work, then, of course, I know 
you will take care of me.” 

“Tom, you have been hurt more than 
you think. You would not go through 
another such a time for a hundred dollars 
and take all the risk, I am sure.” 

“ I wouldn’t have done it this time for a 
hundred dollars, Mr. Rowland. But it had 
to be done, and I was the only one there to 
do it. And I could not have doneJt alone 
if the lame man had not helped me.” 

“And you do not know who the lame 
man is or what is his name?” 

“No, sir; but they seemed to know him 
in Branton.” 


396 


rOM BARD. 


“Well, then, I’ll learn more about him. 
But, my boy, it is worth more than a hun- 
dred dollars, and I mean to give you that ; 
so you may as well let me have my way. 
To tell the truth, you are too sensitive 
about taking money that you do not think 
you have earned. Do you know that peo- 
ple like to give sometimes, and that it does 
them good to give ? Now, if all were like 
you, there could be no giving, and in time 
the world might become much more mean 
and stingy than it is now. There is such 
a thing as being too sensitive and too 
proud. By receiving what some one 
wishes to give, you may, if you do not 
need it, do good to others with the gift.” 

“ Perhaps I am wrong, Mr. Rowland ; I 
never thought of it in that way. But when 
I started to work for you, I made up my 
mind not to take from anybody a cent that 
I had not fairly earned ; and I don’t want 
to take that money. But if you think I am 
doing wrong, I am willing to take it if you 
say so ; and I’ll try to do good with it. 
But I want to ask you to do one thing : 
please don’t tell what I have told you 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMFLOYER. 39 / 

about fightinor with the man for the 
money.” 

“Why not, Tom? You are not ashamed 
of it, are you? It is something to be proud 
of.” 

“ That may be, but I don’t want to have 
people talking about it, and about me too. 
Such things make me proud of myself.” 

“ If you wish me to keep it quiet, I will 
do so ; but it will come out. People will 
see your face. Your mother will see and 
ask ; you’ll tell her, of course.” 

“ Not if I can help it. She’ll be afraid to 
have me go away from the village if she 
finds it out.” 

Tom stayed in Mr. Rowland’s office until 
nearly night, and when it was dark enough 
not to be noticed attended to the horse and 
went home. Hardly had he seated himself 
when Jimmy said, 

“Oh my, Tom ! what’s the matter with your 
face ? ’Tis all swollen up. — See, mother !” 

Mrs. Bard looked and exclaimed, 

“Why, Tom, what have you been doing? 
How did you get hurt so?” 

“Looks as if he’d been fighting,” sug- 


398 


TOM BARD. 


gested Jimmy; then he added, somewhat 
to himself, “ But Tom don’t fight any 
more now unless he’s got to. Any one 
will fight then.” Looking up to his older 
brother’s face with a twinkle in his eye, 
Jimmy added, “ If you had to fight, Tom, 
did you whip the fellow ?” 

“Yes, Jimmy,” he replied. “I did have 
to fight, and I got the best of the fellow 
too.” 

“Oh, well,” said Jimmy, putting his hands 
in his pockets with a satisfied air, “ then it’s 
all right.” 

“ How did it happen, Tom ?” asked Mrs. 
Bard. “ Have you really been fighting ?” 

“Yes, mother; I couldn’t help it. A 
man bothered me so that I could not get 
out of it without hitting him ; and then he 
hit me, as you see. I could not get away 
from him.” 

“I thought, my boy,” said the mother, 
“that your fighting days were over. It 
sounds badly to hear it said that a Chris- 
tian fights. It would be better to stand 
anything rather than fight about it. That 
is what our Saviour taught us.” 


FIGHTING FOR HIS EMPLOYER. 399 

“ I know it, mother, and I want to do as 
he says; but it is so hard for me to do 
right always. But I can’t tell you all 
about this; I did not do so very wrong.” 

“ If you fought, I don’t see how you 
could help doing wrong. It is a sin to 
fight.” 

“Is it always a sin?” asked Tom. “Is 
it a sin for a soldier to fight for his coun- 
try? Isn’t that a trust given to him to take 

care of?” 

Fighting for one’s country is very dif- 
ferent from fist-battles.” 

“Well, mother, if you knew all, you 
would not blame me much; it was only 
resisting evil. But I can’t tell you all 
now. Can you do anything to take the 
swelling away ?” 

“If you had done right, it seems to 
me you would not be afraid to tell me 
all.” 

“ Perhaps Tommy don’t want to have it 
known who got whipped, mother,” sug- 
gested Jimmy. “Tom knows how he’d 
feel if the other boy came out best. It 
don’t feel nice to have folks know that 


400 


TOM BARD. 


you’ve got whipped. Don’t ask Tom, 
mother. If he beat, that’s all we want 
to know.” 

Mrs. Bard said nothing more to Tom 
about his fighting then, but as she tried 
to relieve the swollen face of her son 
she strove to teach Jimmy that there are 
better ways of conquering than by fight- 
ing. 

Tom regretted more than once afterward 
that he had not told his mother the whole 
story. His intention was good, but it 
would have been more wise to have 
made a confidante of his mother in this 
matter. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A LAST LOOK AT THE BOYS. 

UR Story of Tom and his friends is 



already a long one, and the last part 
must be briefly told. 

The day after his encounter with the 
robbers Tom felt sore ; his face was badly 
swollen, and he was glad of an excuse to 
stay away from the store. Jimmy was 
sent with a note telling Mr. Rowland that 
Tom did not feel well enough to come out. 
His employer sent back word that Tom 
must stay at home until he was well. 
Soon after, the doctor (sent by Mr. Row- 
land) came in to take care of the bruised 
boy. The physician and Mr. Rowland kept 
Tom’s secret, but it got out in a day or two 
that he had been in a fight. Probably Jimmy, 
who was proud that his brother had whipped 
somebody, told it. 

After two or three days Tom went to the 

26 401 


402 


TOM BARD 


Store again. Many, seeing the black eye, 
shook their heads and thought that it 
looked bad for a church-member to carry 
on his face such marks of fighting. 

Harry Meyer came in during the day, 
and, taking Tom aside, said, 

“Tom, tell me about this fight. It’s all 
around through the village that you have 
been fighting and got badly hurt. It is 
giving you a bad name, and your friends 
can’t put matters right until they know 
about it. Will you tell me how it hap- 
pened? You can trust me, can’t you, old 
fellow?” 

“Yes, Harry, I can, and I will tell you 
all, if you promise not to tell others just 
yet.” 

Tom told the whole story, and when he 
finished Harry asked, 

“ Why don’t you want it told, Tom ? It 
is no disgrace, but a credit, to you, and 
for your own sake should be known.” 

“ I don’t want it told,” replied Tom, “ for 
then people who probably don’t care two 
straws about me will praise and flatter me 
until I either grow proud of myself or dis- 


A LAST LOOK AT THE BOYS. 403 

gusted with them — most likely both. There 
was enough said when that money that peo- 
ple said I stole was found.” 

“ But, Tom, your friends suffer now ; and, 
more than that, the church suffers because 
you are thought guilty. You owe it to 
others as well as to yourself that people 
should know the truth. Have you told 
your mother?” 

No ; I am afraid that she will worry 
about my being on the road if she knows 
the whole story.” 

“ Don’t you suppose that she will worry 
more to think that you have been fighting, 
and fear that you may do so again ? Our 
mothers are more troubled about our do- 
ing wrong than about our being hurt for 
doing right. No doubt your mother will 
hear what is said about your fighting, and 
that will give her yet more pain. She will 
find out, too, some day, how you got hurt, 
and then she will have a chance to worry, 
any way ; but, more than that, she will be 
troubled to think that you do not trust her 
enough to tell her all the truth.” 

Tom was finally persuaded to have the 


404 


TOM BARD. 


whole story told. But before Harry could, 
by telling, change the feeling against Tom, 
the Branton weekly papers came. The 
Branton Press had a full account of 
Tom’s fight, and told how “ Thomas 
Bard, a young hero of Norton ville,” had 
been attacked by highway-robbers who had 
formed a plan to rob him of a large sum of 
money he was taking to the express-office, 
and that, with the help of a lame, one-armed 
soldier, he had outwitted and got rid of one 
robber ; then, single-handed, had fought the 
other, and had captured him and lodged him 
in prison, where the rogue was now waiting 
trial. 

‘‘Well, it’s all out, and more too,” said 
Tom to Harry after both had read the ac- 
count in the paper. 

“Yes, and your keeping back the truth 
will only make the people talk the more. 
They must praise you now to make up 
for what they have said against you.” 

Tom was for a while the greatest hero in 
Norton ville. It would have been strange 
if he had not been puffed up by all the 
flattering things he heard. But his mother 


A LAST LOOK AT THE BOYS. 405 

had little praise for her son. When she 
read the account in the paper, she quietly 
said. 

‘‘Torn, I wish you had trusted your mother 
enough to have told her about this.” 

When he gave his reason for not telling 
all, she replied, 

“No doubt you meant it for the best, but 
you forgot that I might think of many other 
and not as good reasons why you kept this 
a secret. Besides, my son, you ought to 
feel that you can always trust your mother 
— at least, until she has shown herself un- 
worthy of your confidence.” 

In due time the trial of the would-be 
robber took place. Tom and the one- 
armed soldier were the chief witnesses. 
When Tom quietly told his story, there 
was perfect silence in the court- room; and 
when he finished, there was a murmur of 
applause. 

Tom felt proud and happy, yet he could 
not repress a sorrowful thought for the pris- 
oner for whom no one had a kind word. 

When the lame soldier gave his testimony, 
it was full of praise of Tom. 


4o6 


TOM BARD. 


“ That chap fit more in two minutes,’' said 
he, “ than many a man fit in the whole war. 
He’d have whipped both the scamps if they 
had given him a chance.” 

The robber was convicted and sentenced 
to the State’s prison. 

When Tom expressed to the lame man 
his sorrow that the thief must suffer so 
greatly, the soldier replied, 

“ Better have him go there than have him 
send you to the good kingdom. This world 
needs you. Some day I hope to see you a 
colonel ; and if my leg gets well and I can 
get a wooden arm, count on me as the first 
man to enlist under you.” 

Many Norton ville people were at the 
trial, and when they came home were so 
loud in their praises of Tom that the boy 
had good reason to fear that he would, as 
he said, become too proud to speak to any- 
body but a judge. But Tom was a true 
child of God, and his Father did not per- 
mit him to be spoiled by praise. 

We pass over five years, and look in 
again on Norton ville. 


A LAST LOOK AT THE BOYS. 407 

Tom Bard is in the store yet, but not as 
errand-boy. Mr. Barmore has left the shop, 
and Tom has his place as chief clerk. The 
business has increased so much that, in ad- 
dition to John Green, Will Harris and Ned 
Ball are clerks. Two railroads pass through 
the place, and Nortonville has grown to be 
a large village ; the name has been changed 
to one that sounds more imposing, but the 
old designation will do for us. 

If, after another five years, we look in on 
Nortonville, we shall find a new sign on the 
old store. It reads 

BARD, HARRIS & Co.; 

and if we should look in at a neat dwelling 
with “Thomas Bard’' on the door-plate, we 
should see our friend Nellie Harris appar- 
ently quite at home — indeed, she was at 
home, as was very evident when Tom 
walked in without knocking. 

As a married man Tom is the same 
cheery, whole-hearted, faithful Christian 
that he was when a boy. 

Alvin Brayton has become a farmer; 


4o8 tom bard. 

James Hull learned the miller’s trade, and 
soon took charge of the large mill in the 
village ; Fred De Hart and Bennie Moore 
went to college, and then studied in a 
theological seminary : Fred is now a min- 
ister and Bennie a missionary; Harry Meyer 
is a loved pastor; John Warner went to the 
West Point Military Academy; Bill Snyder 
became clerk in the office of a powder-man- 
ufactory, and has proved himself to be a true, 
faithful man and a sincere Christian. 

Here we leave the boys. Few of them 
know anything about the united prayers of 
Mrs. Ford and Mr. Wyckoff, nor can the 
author say how much those boys owed to 
that woman, nor how much of the good 
she did in the last year of her life was 
owing to the kindness that Mr. Wyckoff 
and the boys showed her. The teacher’s 
experiment was a success. It is one that 
each one may try. Little acts of kindness 
grow ; they live ; they become immortal ; 
they reach to heaven, and at last live 
there. 


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